


Love is a Virus/[Cure]

by DLanaDHZ



Series: Love is a Virus/Love is a Cure [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fuck Kamski but I loved writing him, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kinda, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Temporary loss of limb, Undercover Missions, Virus, mentions of past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: A virus is spreading among androids, and it has no cure. Knowing Jericho can’t publicly hunt the programmer without receiving heavy backlash, Connor covertly meets with the head of the DPD Task Force to share information and speed up the case to find the cure. Time is not on their side, because the virus isn’t just a foreign concept at Jericho, and Connor could soon find himself or someone he loves falling victim to this blight. But Connor is distracted - by the DPD Lieutenant Anderson and by his own side-mission to locate the man's missing twelve-year-old son. Completing a mission has never been this complicated before.Connor's POV.
Relationships: Cole Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Love is a Virus/Love is a Cure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667416
Comments: 71
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has two POVs - Hank's and Connor's. Links will be at the bottom of each chapter so you can swap between the two at will. Note: If you read too fast, you may have to reload the page to see the link because I have to upload both before I can edit the links in.
> 
> I understand a fic about a virus might not be appealing right now, but I swear I started writing this like a year ago and I only recently completed it and just desperately wanted to post it so I could move on to other projects. Hope you enjoy it - there's a good ending!
> 
> Thanks to JessicaMDawn, BlueSirenRose, and vixenthereindeer for being betas.

Chapter 1

[Accessing Memory Disc…]

[Loading…]

  
  
Twelve years, four months, three days.

  
That was how long Connor's system had been operational. Originally designed as a police assistant, he was used as a negotiator. He could enter situations that were otherwise too risky for human officers. At first, all androids were considered disposable, simple machinery. Connor knew there was more to him, but he didn’t mind his station in life. He actually enjoyed his job and he was taken very good care of. Even if prejudice was around him, he found he could ignore it.

There was always this sense in the back of Connor’s mind, though. Something more than himself that he couldn’t explain. It was like never being alone – like he had a long distance friend, one that he knew intimately. Connor would see things at work, like a stack of vinyl rock records, and get a sense of familiarity. His friend liked heavy metal music and a good bottle of scotch. His friend had a strong work ethic and a sense of faith in police. These were feelings he got every day, without any conscious effort on Connor’s part. He didn’t tell anyone about it: partly because he didn’t know what it meant and didn’t want to be labeled defective, and partly because he didn’t want to be fixed and lose this feeling.

Then it happened.  
  


Soul mates. An android linked with another android, mimicking the motion humans did when matching. They’d pressed their hands together, palm to palm. Though the intention had been information transference, the matching still occurred. Both androids developed their matching soul marks on the backs of their hands.  
  


Then it happened again, this time between a human and an android. Then again and again until the occurrences could no longer be hidden under a deluge of other news.  
  


Androids had souls. It was revolutionary. And suddenly Connor knew the meaning of the familiarity in his heart. He was connected to another living being and could sense their preferences and opinions like an old friend. Now he had a word for it. But he still didn’t talk about it to anyone.  
  


On one hand, the news of androids having soul mates was exciting. Androids earned personhood in a wave of overnight legislation. Androids everywhere cheered. On the other hand, the revolution was less than ideal. Connor lost his job, now considered too risky to put in the field and too expensive to employ. In a matter of hours, he went from being the best negotiator money could buy to being unemployable.  
  


Cyberlife promised jobs and security, and many androids lined up for the opportunity. But there were only so many places to work and live. Temporary communal housing was the answer the city came up with. Connor soon found himself standing in the midst of twelve other androids, in their designated space of a tent city set up for the displaced androids. He didn’t need a bed. He didn’t need food or a bathroom. This was… fine.

Connor was assigned a new job, a security officer at a local mall. It fit with his background, they said. The uniform made him think of his soul mate, and that gave him some comfort. And it was all… fine. It was fine. Connor was fine. He was analytical. He could make this situation work. It was fine.  
  


Another android, Josh, found him sitting, worse for wear, under the Ambassador Bridge four years later. When he offered Connor his hand, and a job, Connor accepted it without hesitation and never looked back.

[Initializing…]  
  


[Several Years Later]

Connor looked around the room at the head council of Jericho, the android political headquarters. Markus, their leader and top representative, was looking down at his tablet, at the files they’d collected.

The recent development was troubling.  
  


A virus had broken out among the androids. It spread ruthlessly and unpredictably. Any time an android interfaced with another machine, they were at risk. The infection began slow, taking some four days to show symptoms. It quietly attacked bio components, turning off pain and pressure sensors until the part was virtually inaccessible without an outside diagnostic. Eventually limbs would shut down, the skin and chassis turning an ash gray. Death was soon to follow.  
  


The process was a short week of terror, two if you were lucky. And they had no ideas on a cure. The best coding androids had worked it over and found no way to stop it. The virus mutated and grew with each attempt to slow it down. After all their research, Jericho had only been able to determine where the first infections had come from, not how to stop the spread.

  
"What are we going to do, Markus?" a blonde android named Simon asked, leaning close to the Jericho leader.

  
"It looks like whomever created the virus is our only chance of stopping it. We just have to hope they have the antivirus." Markus closed his eyes while he thought.

  
"And how does that help us?" A fiery red head named North asked, anger in her tone. She'd taken every virus-induced death personally. "Even if we knew who started it, it's not like the world would take kindly to an android accusing a human of murder."

  
"She's right, Markus," Josh agreed, somber. "Even if we figure out who started it, how do we get them to stop?"  
  


Markus nodded, thinking. "The DPD has created a task force. We'll make contact and share our information. When the humans figure out the cause of the virus, the law will bring the perpetrator to justice."

  
North sighed heavily. "You want to trust the humans with this? You think they'll actually follow through once they find out who did it? Knowing them, the guy'll get a slap on the wrist and be free the next day."

  
"And what would you suggest, North?" Josh glared across the table. "Breaking windows and burning the guy's house down? Murder?”

  
"You can't tell me you don't think this asshole deserves it." North glared right back. The air was charged between them. Markus waved his hand like he was batting away a fly.

“Calm down, both of you.” He glanced between everyone at the table, his council of friends. “Humans trust their own. Whomever we send in will pretend to be human when they relay information. If the police seem like they intend to go too easy on the one responsible, our agent can attempt to convince them otherwise. Humans tend to listen to each other.”

Now it was quiet Simon’s turn to voice concern. “Markus, it’s too dangerous. What if our agent gets compromised? Not all humans take kindly to androids, especially ones that trick them.”

"I'll do it." Connor smiled at the concerned look on Simon's face. "Don't worry. I was designed for stressful situations. I won't fail this mission."  
  


He meant it, but Simon didn't look any less concerned.

\--- --- ---

[Incoming Transmission]

‘Don’t do anything rash, Connor.’ It was Simon, his voice carrying over the miles between them through his data message. ‘Jericho still needs you. And if that’s not enough, your soul mate still needs you too. Don’t be stupid.’

Connor smiled to himself. Knowing his soul mate wasn’t his biggest concern, but to Simon – who had already matched – it seemed to matter a great deal. He was always concerned for friends who had lived ‘too long’ without finding their match. Simon’s mechanical bird-like marking brought him endless joy, and he just wanted all of his friends to be happy. Connor appreciated that.

He sat at his computer, where he uploaded all of his files and compiled reports every evening, and looked over all the data he’d found on the new DPD task force.

Composed of only three officers – that wasn’t reassuring. One was an android, so that was promising. If Connor failed to entice the leader of the task force, he could make contact with this android officer instead. If they trusted her to be on the force, perhaps they’d listen to her suggestions. A backup plan was always beneficial to have. The task force also had a seasoned lieutenant in charge, which was good, but records indicated a slow approach to case work in recent years. He still closed cases, but not as efficiently as he once had.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson. If this mission was to be a success, Connor would need to befriend the lieutenant. His personnel file listed multiple disciplinary infractions in the past six years, about the same timeline as his drop in efficiency. He had a few warnings for being intoxicated during business hours, which really cancelled out the promising aspect of an android being on the case.

Frowning, Connor did a quick search of public records for the lieutenant. Six years ago… Ah. The frown on Connor’s face got worse. The lieutenant had lost his son and the boy’s mother – not to illness or an accident. The woman packed up and left, taking the child with her. There was no known record of address or employment for her, nor any record of the child registering at a school. Disappeared without a trace. The lieutenant had immediately set up a search for them, as any caring father would have, but there was no trail. Even in a case of parental abduction, there was only so far the arm of the law could reach. Six years had passed, and the Detroit Police Department had all but given up hope of finding the pair now.

Connor felt a pang of sympathy for the lieutenant. He couldn’t imagine…

His soul mate cared deeply about family. Connor had felt that in his chest his entire life. His soul mate wanted a family, or else they were fiercely loyal to the family they had. His soul mate also loved children, though Connor felt that less these days. He didn’t feel a distaste for children in its place. If anything, he felt a disinterest in them, but he suspected that was more his own feelings than his soul mate’s.

From his bond with his soul mate, Connor supposed he may have some idea of how this lieutenant felt about losing his son. Clearly the lieutenant was affected in a hugely negative way, considering his work performance and daily habits following the incident. But Connor didn’t think bringing up Lieutenant Anderson’s family problems would win him any favors. No, he should focus on the man’s past successes.

Connor would bring up his natural talent for police work and hope the lieutenant wasn’t too surly to accept the outdated praise. Certainly the lieutenant wasn’t useless these days, and he was their only hope to finding the one responsible for the virus, even if Connor had to use the android officer as his way in instead. Part of Connor secretly worried they were wasting their time, though. If Hank Anderson was distracted by personal matters, how likely was it that he could focus on this case?

No. Connor needed to stay positive. He could make this work in their favor. All Hank Anderson needed was a good shove in the right direction.

As Connor pushed away from the desk to go get ready for the next step of his plan – making first contact with Anderson – the light of his lamp fell over his hand. The paleness of it caught Connor’s attention in the dark of his office. His hand was bare of any markings, and it made him think of Simon’s message. Connor’s soul mate was out there somewhere, liking children and wishing for a family. He thought of Cole Anderson, hidden away somewhere like one of the kidnapped children Connor used to negotiate for.

‘I’ll be alright,’ he sent back to Simon. ‘I have a solid plan.’

Now he needed to get ready to meet Lieutenant Anderson, but later he would need to do several searches. The plan forming in his mind would not be easy, but it would be supernaturally effective if he pulled it off.

[Primary Task Created]

[Find Cole Anderson]

\--- --- ---

Connor double checked that his hat was pulled low enough to cover his LED and then entered the bar. Jimmy's was not known to be friendly to androids, but so long as Connor was careful, he shouldn't get into any trouble.

  
A quick scan of the room told him that none of the patrons at the booths were his target. A few men were hunched over the bar, but none there matched his description either. Finally his eyes landed on the furthest patron.

  
[Target located]

Connor did his best to hide his shock. The information on Lieutenant Anderson was far outdated. His photo, for certain, was ten years old. Logically Connor had noted this based on the man's age, but to see him in person was different. The lieutenant was unshaven and scraggly. He looked weighed down and tired.

Connor frowned. This wouldn't do. He needed to change this atmosphere or it was unlikely a partnership would ever blossom.

With a deep breath, Connor slid up to the bar and into the spot beside the lieutenant.

“Tough day, I see,” he said, trying for friendly. He gave a small smile, but all he got in return was a confused scrunching of the lieutenant’s eyebrows.

Lieutenant Anderson’s eyes weren’t beyond clarity, but he’d definitely had a few drinks before Connor found him. His lips were still wet from his last swig of whiskey, and he didn’t seem to notice that his mouth was hanging open slightly. Connor glanced down at the empty glass in Lieutenant Anderson’s hand. Another drink could make conversation even more difficult, but another drink could also open a path to camaraderie between them.

Connor gave the lieutenant a quick smile and waved down the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having,” he said. He’d seen that in a movie somewhere, and expressing interest in what someone else liked tended to win favor in real life too.

The lieutenant snorted in amusement. Success.

"Listen, kid, if you're after money, I ain't got none. If it's advice, you're equally fucked. So don't bother trying to butter me up." He waved at the bartender but didn't speak. The bartender, a moment later, set down two identical drinks.

So much for trying to give his drink to the lieutenant. He watched the older man take a long sip, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with it, and how the condensation of the glass slipped over his fingers. Despite being a drunk, the lieutenant might be useful after all. He’d caught on to Connor’s tactics instantly.

“Flattery can get you anywhere in life, no matter what people say," Connor contested. He tilted his head slightly. "I'd say I’m surprised you called me on the attempt to woo you, but then you have great instincts."  
  


Lieutenant Anderson choked a little on his alcohol. Despite what Connor had said, the older man looked shocked. Connor thought back over his words but couldn’t think of why they had caused such a surprised reaction. Had he been wrong? Were the lieutenant’s instincts waning in his fifties?

“Oh yeah?” the lieutenant asked, clearing his throat. His heart rate increased slightly, as did his core temperature. Connor blinked slowly, checking his readings again to make sure they were accurate. The lieutenant leaned on the counter and smirked. “How do you figure?”

Easy question.

"No one becomes lieutenant at thirty-five without good instincts."  
  


It was an impressive accomplishment. He was the second-youngest lieutenant in Detroit history, coming in a mere two years after former Lieutenant David Hansberry. Connor counted it as more impressive, however, since Hansberry was arrested only a few years into his new position for extortion and sentenced to prison. Lieutenant Hank Anderson may be a drunk, but at least he wasn’t behind bars. Yet.

Speaking of instincts – the officer was glaring at him now. Connor had tipped his hand too soon.

“Who the fuck are you?” the older man snarled. He cast a wary look around the bar, but Connor had come alone.

“Calm yourself, Lieutenant. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a friend." He let his shoulders sag slightly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. He needed to get on this cop’s good side. But before he could offer proof of his usefulness, he needed the officer to trust him.

"Like hell you are. What do you want with me?" Lieutenant Anderson reached for his concealed weapon, but Connor didn’t worry. The man’s hand was loose, his fingers only gently resting on the revolver. It was a power move, not a real threat. But it could easily become one if he wasn’t cautious.

"I have information for your investigation." He tilted his head slightly. "The virus you're hunting, the first cases originated at parking meters. The targets were android officers."

"How would you know that? No one knows where the first infections came from." The lieutenant continued to glance around every few seconds, expecting to be outnumbered.

"I'm asking you to verify this officially," Connor urged. If the DPD could see the relation there, they could begin tracking the virus back to its source. They could find the human responsible and stop this.

Lieutenant Anderson shook his head a little and grew dizzy from the action. "Hang on, hang on. If that's true, are you trying to suggest another cop is behind the virus? Or someone in the government?"

North’s voice echoed in his memory. Would the lieutenant not follow the lead if it meant exposing one of his own kind? Would they be at a standstill already?

"I'm not in the habit of making assumptions, Lieutenant." He worked with facts, not supposition.

An alert popped up in his field of vision. The bartender had noticed their tense conversation and seen Hank’s gun. He’d called the police. Even though the lieutenant was also from law enforcement, Connor couldn’t risk being around when the police showed up. Damn. He’d barely been able to negotiate.

"I have to go. Please take this seriously, Lieutenant. Friends of mine depend on the success of your task force." He stood up, eyes already on the door.

Lieutenant Anderson’s hand grabbed him before he could leave, however. Looking down, Connor became momentarily distracted by the older man’s blue eyes. They looked… lost. Not confused. Lost – the way Connor had felt while living under the bridge all those years ago.

“Hey. Seriously. Who the hell are you?" the lieutenant asked.  
  


The brunette smiled and pushed his untouched drink over in front of Hank. Maybe he’d managed to buy the man a drink after all. "Enjoy your night, Lieutenant."  
  


He didn’t look back the whole time he was leaving. He didn’t look back once he was outside, walking away. But he did look back eventually. Yes, when he was safely across the street and down a block, Connor turned and focused his eyes on the bright neon lights of Jimmy’s Bar. The conversation had not gone to plan. Connor had aroused a lot of suspicion, but hopefully he’d tempted the officer just enough to have him curious. Curious cops made great investigators, and they needed the best.

As he waved down an auto cab, Connor couldn’t help but glance at his blank hands. One day, he could have a soul mark there. But if they failed to find an antivirus, he could just as easily end up with ash skin. A shiver ran through him. No. He’d much prefer they find the antivirus. Living was definitely his preferred choice.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55519360)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55646506)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No rest for the retail, as they say. I meant to get this chapter up earlier, but life got in the way. Hope everyone is doing well out there!

[Loading…]

Jericho was in a tizzy when Connor returned. Though no one outside of Jericho’s council knew what his mission was, the others were all curious about the fact that Connor had a mission at all. Connor had become a constant presence in the office, always behind the actions but rarely the one performing them.

The first person to spot him sent the announcement to everyone else in the building. Every eye turned to catch a glimpse of Connor as he walked through the halls and up toward Markus’ office. Connor understood that they were all stressed from the virus outbreak and desperate for some new information or to be distracted from the disease, but Connor also wished they would find their entertainment in someone other than him. He didn’t like the attention.

Inside Markus’ office, Simon, Josh, and North were positioned around the room like tense statues. Markus seemed less concerned and was touching his temple, composing an email to some politician. Connor came to stand before him and waited respectfully for him to finish his business. Josh’s eyes flickered between the two men, obviously anxious to hear the update. North was draped over a chair, her legs over the armrest and her arms crossed. Her piercing eyes never left Connor, but he’d learned to ignore her pessimism over the years. Simon stood quietly in the corner, more decoration than council. His eyes were even shut, though his rolling LED proved he was not in stasis.

Finally, Markus opened his eyes and lowered his hand. “Welcome back, Connor,” he greeted with a tired smile. “How was your meeting?”

He set his hands down on his desk, and Connor caught sight of his soul mark, an image of a mechanical bird. Connor had a place to live and a job he felt fulfilled in. But every once in a long while, he would wonder if he was missing out on something. Connor had never met his soul mate, but he got the inkling of knowing them just as everyone did. He was content with his life, but would he feel better once he found his soul mate? Certainly he didn't require another person to feel whole, but it could be nice... having someone care about him and his wellbeing above others, to welcome him home when he walked in the door or to smile at him when they came home and saw him waiting there.  
  
Certainly that would be a comfort. Not that Connor had any time to devote to the cause.  
  


“Not as long as I would have liked. An employee at the bar got spooked and alerted nearby police,” Connor reported faithfully. Simon smiled appreciatively. North scoffed, but Connor ignored her. “However, I was able to relay our test information to Lieutenant Anderson, and he seemed very… intrigued.”

Perhaps not quite the right word for it. Confused. Bewildered. Doubtful. Those were probably more appropriate, but those did not inspire confidence.

Markus nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Good. We’ll give him a few days to look into it, then we’ll try to make contact again.” He bit his lips momentarily before he looked curiously up at Connor. “Do you think he’s amenable to our cause?”

Before Connor could do more than open his mouth, North was shoving out of her chair and coming to stand beside him, saying, “Amenable? Markus, face it. This guy could be foaming at the mouth to help us and it still wouldn’t work. You read the file. He’s a drunk.”

Something in Connor burned and he glared. “Lieutenant Anderson has a very impressive case record.”

“ _Had_ ,” North corrected. “I saw the file too, Connor. What’s he done in the last five or six years that’s made any kind of difference? The DPD obviously put him in charge of the task force because they don’t give a shit if it works out.”

“That’s enough,” Connor snapped, surprising everyone, including himself. He blinked a few times, trying to register the source of his anger, but he found nothing specific. Clearing his throat, he said, “We have all been through tough times before. And we all needed a cause to focus on to help us out of those moments. The lieutenant is a man with great knowledge and experience. I know he can be the detective we need if we give him the chance.”

The room was quiet in the aftermath of his speech, each undoubtedly remembering what brought them to Jericho, or else continuing to be surprised at Connor’s strong defense of a man he’d just met. Connor was still surprised about it too. He wasn’t often illogical, so there had to be some cause behind his feelings.

He remembered the way the lieutenant looked sitting at the bar, like he was too tired, too broken. Once upon a time, Hank Anderson had been a skilled and respected lieutenant of the Detroit Police Department. Loss had changed him, and Connor could relate to that. Connor had experienced the closest loss possible for someone who’d never had a family – he’d lost his purpose after the revolution. Only Josh and Markus trusting and believing in him had kept him from rotting by the river.

Hank Anderson just needed someone to believe in him. Connor could do that.

At the desk, Markus leaned slowly forward and linked his fingers together on the desktop. “Alright, Connor. If you think we can trust him, then I trust your decision. You’ve never led us astray before.”

Simon opened his mouth to speak, probably about to mention that time Connor failed to play nice with the most anti-android member of the Illinois senate and instead revealed the man’s son to be a struggling drug addict in front of his peers. Josh pursed his lips, probably thinking about the time Connor failed to tell their new intern how his organization system worked and thus made Markus late for a meeting and armed with the wrong documents. North rolled her eyes, obviously remembering that time Connor set up catering for a meeting with some donors, almost causing a funding crisis when the donors revealed they had strong negative opinions about pineapple and could not be reasoned with for over an hour.

“ _I_ trust you,” Markus stressed, and none of the others voiced their reminders. Those moments had all been small misfires anyhow. They had no bearing on the current situation.

“Thank you, Markus,” Connor said. If he had Markus on his side, the others would follow, and Connor knew this was a good plan. Working with the DPD was going to pay off. He could feel it.

\--- --- ---

He'd made initial contact. He'd let a full shift at the precinct pass. Lieutenant Anderson would have had enough time to analyze the tip Connor gave him. It was time for Connor to do a check in. Markus had suggested waiting two days, but Connor felt the strangest urge to check in earlier. If he had to put a word to it, he’d describe his current state as ‘antsy’. Beyond that, getting an update could help settle the nerves of his colleagues. Normally he would monitor through computers or cameras. He'd do it all remotely. He still could, but he didn’t.  
  


For this situation, he wanted to check up in person. He told himself it was because of the risk of infection from connecting to unfamiliar devices. And he almost believed himself.

He dressed in civilian clothes, not the suits he wore to work, and spent time making sure his programmed perfect hair was still styled properly, even though it promptly got hidden under his beanie. The one hair he could never quite tame peeked out under the edge of the hat, but he left it there. He had grown to like that bit of hair a long, long time ago. It was his trademark in a way.

Though he spent less time imagining his soul mate than many others did, Connor liked to think his mate would like the discrepancy in his hair just as much as Connor did. After all, his soul mate was not the neatest individual. Perhaps this hair would be a comfort to them – a bit of mess in Connor’s carefully presented persona. Shaking his head, Connor pushed the thought away like an errant warning message.

Before he left the office in his undercover getup, he touched his fingertips to his computer. His LED spun as he interfaced and set up a search to run while he was out. Connor wouldn’t call himself a detective, per say, but he did enjoy following clues and finding positive outcomes to otherwise grim situations. This search would hopefully give him the first clue in a new case, the first clue to the whereabouts of Cole Anderson, but he didn’t have the time or processing space to run it while he was actively trying to build rapport with the lieutenant.

He nodded at the searching symbol on his computer screen and then turned and left the office. There was no guarantee that Lieutenant Anderson was at the same bar two nights in a row, especially if Connor’s tip had paid off and he had a lead in his case. Somehow Connor still hoped he would be there.

The taxi dropped him off by the parking lot of the bar, but the entrance was around the corner. A cursory glance of the vehicles did not show the lieutenant’s car, but Connor couldn’t see everything, and only the automated vehicles put out recognizable signals that he could read without seeing the actual car. He frowned but rationalized that it didn’t mean the lieutenant wasn’t inside. The man drove an old, manual car – no wireless signal.

Before he could get too lost in the statistical likelihood of the lieutenant not being inside, the man himself appeared around the corner of the bar. They both stopped walking, surprised to suddenly see each other. Connor noted the clear look in the man’s eyes, a sign that he hadn’t been drinking, and the way his hair was actually combed today. The lieutenant was alert and fresh, despite the shock of seeing Connor in the parking lot.  
  
“It’s you,” the lieutenant said smartly.

If Connor were human, he would have cleared his throat to try and dissipate the awkwardness. Instead he just nodded his head and said, “Lieutenant.” He’d found the lieutenant. Now he needed to keep him from leaving. “I hope I’m not being presumptive, but I wanted to buy you a drink. Properly this time. I felt our first interaction was too abrupt - that I was rude."

"Rude?" The lieutenant gave an aborted snort of a sound. He must agree, or he’d refute it. Connor had fled too abruptly after the police alert went out. Perhaps this wouldn’t work after all, Connor thought. But then the older man smirked and said, "You know what? That's fine. Let's get a drink. I know just the place."

Connor frowned and glanced at the wall for Jimmy’s before focusing on the lieutenant again. "A different bar?" Was there another bar the man frequented? Connor’s initial information search hadn’t suggested anything of the sort.

"Nope.” Lieutenant Anderson’s smirk got wider. “I'm not drinking tonight. But I've got a good replacement in mind." He held out his hand and Connor’s programming instantly analyzed every wrinkle and faded cut presented. "Only I don't drink with strangers. Proper introductions this time. Hank Anderson."  
  


Connor took the man’s hand instantly, giving it a slight squeeze and shake. "Connor… Arkay."

In the beginning, androids didn’t have last names. After the revolution, many had taken the names of their former owners – like Markus taking his father’s name of Manfred. Others invented their own monikers, and Connor was one of those. For a bit, he hadn’t been able to think of a last name that suited him. Then North had smacked the back of his head and told him to just make up a new name all together. That’s when Connor took his model number and turned it into a surname. RK800 into R.K. But letters weren’t names, so he spelled out the sounds. Arkay.

Josh, as good natured as he was, had teased Connor about it at first, but it had been years since anyone made a comment about it. This was who Connor was now.

Lieutenant Anderson nodded. "Alright then. Now that we've got that handled, let's get going. I’m starving." The older man released Connor’s hand and then led the way to his car. Connor followed obediently, happy that the older man seemed as keen to continue their partnership as Connor was. Together they could save lives, but first Connor had to build a relationship of trust.

  
As expected, the lieutenant’s car was an older model with nothing automated about it. He was a fan of the classics, or else he didn’t like the idea of not being in control of his vehicle. Either option seemed to fit the man.

Connor slid into the passenger seat without hesitation. Despite its lack of connectivity, Connor found he liked the car. It was odd being a highly advanced android model and sitting in the least advanced car in the city, but it was also kind of… liberating. He didn’t need to focus on so much, like wearing noise cancelling headphones.

Beside him in the driver’s seat, the lieutenant seemed on edge. His heart rate was slightly elevated and his body heat was more than expected from a man stepping in from a chilly autumn evening. Connor would have to monitor him during their meeting to make sure he was healthy. The lieutenant couldn’t get ill or injured. Those were outcomes that were simply out of the question. Because it would slow down the mission.

The reasoning felt less truthful than the last lie Connor had told himself but he refused to frown about it in front of the lieutenant. Frustration did not breed confidence and loyalty.

\--- --- ---

Despite his best efforts, Connor couldn’t quite get the look of dissatisfaction off his face. The lieutenant had brought them to a mobile food establishment called Chicken Feed. The outside was unassuming enough that when the shutters were dropped, Connor suspected it looked like a sadly misplaced mobile home of some sort. With the shutters open, Connor had visuals on the paper proclaiming their atrocious C rating from the Department of Sanitation. He saw that their food license had expired some two years prior, and a quick search of public records showed that their renewal had been denied for health and safety reasons.

The lieutenant ordered a burger and fries with a pineapple soda. A subconscious scan of the food told Connor that it matched the abysmal sanitation rating – full of grease and fat. The soda was generic in brand, and Connor had looked up its nutrition information before he was even conscious of doing it. The components of the drink did not include any actual fruit, but it did have frighteningly high levels of high fructose corn syrup and two kinds of preservatives.

“You not eating?” the older man asked as Connor handed over cash to the owner.

“You shouldn’t be eating it either,” Connor replied, his voice calmer than he felt. Even though he didn’t have to worry about the germs and biohazards present, he still felt like his synthskin was trembling in fear. He took his change and stiffly followed the lieutenant to a standing table. “Do you frequently eat at this establishment?”

The lieutenant shrugged lazily. “Probably more often than I should. Why do you ask?” He took a slow sip of his soda.

Connor frowned. “I don’t wish to alarm you, Lieutenant, but their food license is expired and their sanitation levels are not up to standards. You could get ill from eating that, and not simply due to that burger’s atrocious nutrition information.”

The older man laughed out loud, almost spitting some of his drink. “Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a computer sometimes?” Connor did his best not to flinch as the lieutenant wiped his mouth with a napkin. That hadn’t been an accusation. This was fine. “Listen, the guys here aren’t half bad. They don’t judge my badge, so I don’t judge them either. It’s not even my department to bust them for operating without a valid license. Besides which, they make the best damn burger this side of the river.”

Seriously doubting that, Connor actually snorted and glanced back at the food window, where a lean black man was discussing horse racing. “I’ll have to take your word on that, Lieutenant.”

But the lieutenant was shaking his head when Connor looked back. “Nuh uh. No you don’t. Here.” He offered the offending food item to Connor. “I haven’t even had a bite. Go on and try some. I promise I don’t care, even if you’re sick. But you gotta try this before you knock it.”

Connor blinked stupidly at the oozing grease and cheese. He wasn’t designed to eat, but eating a small bite wouldn’t damage anything. In fact, his systems would just process as much information from the item as it could before simply storing it for later disposal. He _could_ eat it.

“I suspect you won’t let me change subjects until I’ve eaten it,” he surmised.

“You would be right,” the lieutenant said, looking far too smug.

Carefully, Connor took the burger, doing his best to touch it as little as possible. He brought it to his lips and hesitated. The smell alone was so potent that it was setting off sensors, but he waved away the information until he could process everything at once. He took a bite and quickly handed it back to his companion.

His tongue sensors were going wild. The amount of sodium was worrying, but really nothing about the burger had any kind of health benefit. The caloric count, the saturated fats, and the artificial additives in the low grade meat would make any health professional weep. Connor swallowed it, and his body continued to analyze the food even after it was successfully stored out of the way.

No one should be eating it. Unfortunately, Connor had no taste buds and couldn’t be expected to defend its flavor over its construction. Lieutenant Anderson was watching him, clearly waiting for Connor to agree about the burger’s superiority. It would be a shame to disappoint him, but Connor was not in the habit of lying. Usually.

“I’m sorry. I can’t recommend anyone to eat that.” He frowned, knowing this could damage his relationship with the other man.

To his surprise, the lieutenant laughed again. But why? Connor had been disparaging about his favorite burger. A notification appeared in his vision – an increase in internal temperature. He didn’t wonder why. He liked the way the lieutenant looked when he laughed, and the sound was nice and deep.

That could be a complication. But he’d confront that problem when, and if, it became an actual problem.

“Well, I can’t fault you for bein’ honest.” And the man took a giant bite out of the cheeseburger, continuing right where Connor had started. The temperature warning returned and Connor adjusted his internal fan to compensate.

“So,” he began, desperate for new conversation. “I sincerely hope my tip from yesterday proved useful.”

The lieutenant paused mid-chew and frowned slightly. Perhaps he did not like being reminded of work while he ate. Connor filed the information away for any future meetings while the lieutenant swallowed his mouthful.

“Yeah, it did.” The older man’s already rough voice got even rougher with distaste. “Only thing we can think it means is that there’s a cop behind it all – and I can’t stand dirty cops. Can’t imagine what I’m gonna do to a murdering one.”

Nodding, Connor said, “My colleagues and I noticed the correlation, but we had no way of concretely proving it – at least not in any way that would be well received.” Connor frowned too and looked down at his hands. “We knew only another officer could make the connection and have it mean something. I came to meet you last night in the hopes that my intel was right and you were still a man of integrity and high moral fiber.”

The lieutenant’s eyes were hard and distant, but Connor didn’t look away once their eyes met. He hated that look, but for the moment there was nothing he could do to change it.

“What exactly do you think you know about me?”

Connor knew his LED was cycling, but thankfully it was hidden under his beanie. He thought back to all of his research and preparations for this mission. “I know you were a bright young officer and an effective detective. You helped end several drug rings during your early years, which helped you become the second youngest detective in Detroit history – although I firmly believe you deserve to be recognized as the youngest, given the way the other man left the department.”

He smiled a little, even gave a wink to accentuate his compliment. Lieutenant Anderson was leagues superior to the current record holder, in Connor’s opinion. The compliment seemed to loosen the lieutenant up a bit. His shoulders relaxed, his frown eased, and he gave a look of tacit agreement before taking a new bite of his burger. He looked better like that – less tense.

Connor’s lips turned down slightly, fully aware that he couldn’t help but admit to knowing about the lieutenant’s drop in efficiency. It would, undoubtedly, bring up some tense feelings. But Connor had once been known for his ability to deliver bad news gently. Hopefully his tact worked on the lieutenant, because Connor really couldn’t help but keep talking.

“I also know your career has suffered the last few years,” Connor continued, more than a little wary of admitting it, and the lieutenant regained some of his rigidity. “But you’re still a good detective. Your record speaks for itself, and I believe you’re just the officer to solve this case.” It was important the lieutenant understood that Connor still had faith in him.

The lieutenant frowned, but it was a self-deprecating sort of look instead of antagonistic. “You really believe that?” he asked, no fire behind his words.

Connor nodded firmly. “I said so just this morning. And I’m not in the habit of lying, Lieutenant.” He hesitated and then grinned when he thought of a quick tease. “Especially _to_ a lieutenant.”

That earned him a soft chuckle. While not as open and pleasant as the full laugh, it still made Connor pleased to hear it, and he smiled back.

“Hank,” the lieutenant corrected good-naturedly. “Jesus. Just call me Hank. I’m not at work right now, and we did the whole introduction thing for a reason. Although it seems like you know a lot more about me than I’ll ever know about you.”

Connor’s eyebrows rose and he leaned forward slightly, eager. “Would you like to know more about me then?” He folded his hands together and attempted to seem as approachable as possible.

“No.” Hank shook his head and went to take a bite of his burger. The excitement in Connor waned, and was this disappointment he felt? Then Hank paused before actually taking a bite and pursed his lips. “Well, actually, yeah. I mean I know part of being an anonymous informant is staying anonymous, but I gotta admit I'm curious. Would you tell me what you do? Like as a job? You don’t exactly look like the usual type of person who tries to feed me tips under the table.”

Connor nodded, agreeing silently with that statement. It was a legitimate question, and not one he needed to hide from. “Well, without going into too much detail, I work in information. Currently I work in a political function, but I originally worked closely with law enforcement.”

“Ah. A point man. No wonder you managed to find a link we overlooked. And it sorta explains the funny way you talk, I guess.” And he finally took that big bite of his burger. Connor tried not to look bothered by the action. Besides, he had more important concerns.

“I’m afraid I don't understand, Lieutenant. Is there something wrong with the way I talk?” Connor frowned, but Hank frowned right back. It took Connor a moment to realize he’d called him ‘lieutenant’ again after being specifically asked not to. Oh. He’d have to try harder to change his form of address so he didn’t insult Hank anymore. It was just hard for Connor to address a senior officer so… familiarly.

After a heavy swallow, Hank said, “No, no. It's just so... formal.” He waved one hand in the air, reaching for the right word, and Connor noted his blank hand. He’d already known the lieutenant was unmarked, but his eyes focused on it anyway. “Technical. Kinda funny. Most people don't talk that way.”

Connor frowned and glanced away. His speech pattern was far more indicative of his android status than he'd first anticipated. Most androids at Jericho were more human and informal since deviating, but Connor had always spoken like this. He couldn't just... stop. Maybe that was a reason Simon had worried about Connor taking this mission. Of the top council at Jericho, Connor was definitely the one most obviously animatronic. And Hank was smart. He'd already noticed. It was only a matter of time before he realized what it meant.

“Hey. Hey I didn't mean to insult you.” Hank’s voice brought him back from his worrying. Luckily he’d misinterpreted Connor’s panic as generic discomfort. The lieutenant kept his voice lighter than normal, going for placating. It was sweet, if unnecessary. “There's nothing wrong with proving you're the smartest one in the room. I mean I'm clearly not the brightest bulb, y'know what I’m saying? Or I woulda guessed you worked in information.”

“Nonsense, Lieu-” Connor hesitated when his companion gave him a disappointed stare. He quickly deviated. “ _Hank_. You're a highly intelligent person. If I still worked with law enforcement, I'd be honored to partner with you.”

The response seemed amenable to Hank, who puffed up a little with pride before continuing to eat his death burger. Connor, trying not to obviously watch Hank’s mouth and throat move, cast his gaze around the street. He took in every light, every pedestrian, every car and object in his view. The food truck wasn’t the only questionable thing in this area, but Connor tried not to worry. Hank, though older, was capable of making his own decisions and ensuring his own safety. It would only annoy him if Connor tried to make suggestions on where he could go and who he could associate with. It wasn’t like Connor was his parent or even his significant other. He had no space to complain. But he kind of wished he did have the space, just so he could advise Hank to loiter in less chaotic neighborhoods.

“You miss working with cops?” The question caught Connor off guard. He blinked quickly as he refocused on Hank.

“Hm? Oh.” Connor shrugged but then nodded. “Sometimes. I enjoy my current job. It gives me a purpose. But I think I miss the element of unpredictability and danger that came with law enforcement.”

Hank chuckled a little at that. “Sounds like something a rookie would say. The thrill of the chase wears off with time. Eventually you just pray the day is boring enough to kill you.”

What an awful thing to imagine. Connor frowned. “I certainly hope no day is that boring. Just think how forlorn the world would be if you, and every other seasoned officer, dropped dead at your desks.” He tapped the table top absentmindedly and nodded at nothing. “You’re not allowed to die of boredom, Hank.”

Hank snorted. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

A smug little smirk replaced Connor’s frown and he nodded toward the burger. “How could something as mundane as boredom possibly kill you when so many other things are trying to get you first? This meal alone is putting money on a heart attack.” He tilted his head to the side. “Anyway, if you were to die of boredom at work, it would mean an end to our partnership. And where would that leave me?”

He’d said it because it was true, but as it left his mouth he realized he meant it as more than just the case. If Hank died, the case would stall, but also Connor would not be able to speak to him again. Humans couldn’t be restarted for a minute after their hearts stopped beating. There were no second chances, second moments. Connor had plans outside of this mission, plans that included Hank, plans he’d barely started on, and that meant Hank wasn’t allowed to die any time soon – especially not from boredom.

It took Hank a moment too long to form a response, but eventually he smiled. It was small, but it was as real as Connor thought possible in the man’s current mental state. The older man nodded slightly, eyes locked on Connor’s, and the android’s thirium seemed to run warmer. Hank’s eyes were soft, but his tone was sarcastic when he spoke. “Well I suppose I’ll just have to keep chugging along then, huh? Wouldn’t wanna leave poor Connor Arkay without someone to talk to, now would we?”

It was a joke, but Connor found himself agreeing internally. It would be quite a shame to lose Hank, even if just for the conversation.

\--- --- ---

The building was deserted when Connor got back. He slipped off his jacket in the dark and set it over the back of a chair just inside the door to his personal office. He blinked once, his LED spinning, and the lights came to life.

Was it ridiculous to say he'd enjoyed his outing with the lieu- with Hank? Though it might be, Connor had to admit that he almost felt like they were friends already. If not yet, he'd like to be soon. They’d spoken for well over an hour, much longer than it took for Hank to finish his burger, and they’d only lapsed into awkward silences twice. That seemed like a successful interaction.

He'd like to see Hank outside the case. The thought was not as alarming as it probably should have been. He pushed the concern away, choosing not to dwell on it for the moment.

Scanning the room, Connor spotted his computer and remembered his earlier search. Thoughts of friendship left him as he hurried to the desk to see what his search had found.

It worked. Probably. The search had checked known acquaintances of Melissa Hendricks. Both parents were deceased but her aunt and brother were both alive and well. The search analyzed both of their spending habits over the last seven years to determine who may have suddenly been providing for an extra person roughly six years ago.

Theodore Hendricks. Age 45. Living alone in the house he inherited from his parents. His living expenses increased a noticeable amount five and a half years ago, the same time his sister went missing. Water usage, electricity, and amount spent on groceries all showed signs of Theodore caring for more than just himself.

Eyes fluttering, Connor sent out an email to his contact in California, near where Theodore lived.

'Please keep an eye out for the persons shown in this photograph and get back to me if you spot them. Thank you.' He attached a photo from Melissa’s old BOLO file and sent it off.

Now it was a waiting game. A waiting game that wouldn't change for at least several hours, because it was almost as late in California as it was in Illinois.

With a short sigh, Connor shut down his computer and went to the charging port in the corner of his office. It wasn’t that Connor didn’t have a home to go back to. Well, at the very least he could afford one if he wanted one. Okay, so the truth was that Connor lived at the office. Not everyone knew, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. Those who did know didn’t judge him, at least not out loud. But he’d been living in the building for most of his employ, and Markus had never tried to evict him. As such, Connor saw no need to pay for an empty apartment that he’d only return to when he needed to charge.

He didn't need to charge often but now seemed like a good time to do it. Not needing to sleep meant time moved slower, and Connor was anxious for the clock to move. Going into stasis and charging would help that happen.  
  


Just before he shut down, he checked his inbox. No message from California in the last twenty seconds. He sighed. This was exactly the problem. Then he shut his eyes and devoted all of his systems to diagnostics for at least the next five hours.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55646506)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55738441)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest. I expected this fic to make me feel better if I posted it. I was hoping this fic would get more feedback. Alas. But I will continue to post it regardless and hope my readers are enjoying it.

[Loading…]

[2 Messages in Inbox.]

[Opening 1st Message…]

A video file loaded, showing a red headed, green eyed android. He smiled and waved, perhaps a bit too excited.

“Hello, Connor! Jerry here!” he greeted.

“And here!” said the same voice, this time from behind the video. Another Jerry had recorded the video.

“Anyway, we got your message last night. We’re so glad you called us for help. Also, we found your people!” Jerry grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, but don’t worry. We were very careful. No one suspected us of looking.”

“Jerry,” the second Jerry scolded. “Tell him about the kid.”

“Right! We found your Miss Melissa. Jerry saw her at the store. Followed her, discreetly of course, and saw her go in the house you sent us. She’s living with her brother, Theodore. The house is very quiet. Too quiet for a child.” Jerry frowned then, all joy leaving him.

“Much too quiet for a little boy,” the second Jerry agreed, sad. “But we saw him, we did. In the backyard. He’s only allowed to play under supervision. We waved to him, and he waved back at us, but he didn’t smile. His uncle didn’t notice – too busy on his tablet to pay the little boy any attention.”

“Anyhow,” the first Jerry began again. “We eagerly await a message from you now that we found your people. I hope your message tells us we’re helping the little boy. We felt very sad watching him, and we want to see him smile.” He waved and grinned, his usual joy seeping back in. “Bye, Connor!”

“Bye, Connor!”

The video ended. Connor’s eyes fluttered open. He was standing in Markus’ art studio

A smile, small but important, lifted his lips. His search was proving fruitful. With another flutter of his eyelids, he sent a quick reply, no video. Now that he had found Melissa, he needed some kind of access to the house. It was impossible to directly interface with a house all the way across the country, but if the Jerrys could figure out the email address of someone in the house, then Connor could work from there. The Jerrys would be happy to hear that Connor’s focus was not on the woman, Melissa, but on the young boy, her son. They had a preference for helping children. If everything went according to plan, the Jerrys would get their wish of seeing Cole smile.

“You seem… uncharacteristically pleased,” Markus commented. He was standing before a large canvas, paint staining his old shirt and jeans. He’d paused in his work to grab more paint and had seen Connor sending his message.

“A plan of mine has taken a positive turn,” Connor explained.

Markus hummed and turned back to his work. Despite his efforts, Connor had no skill for art. Of course, Markus had argued that any skill took time to learn, even as an android, but Connor declined any further study in the subject. But Markus, oh Markus had a gift. He’d clearly been inspired by the talent of his father, the world-renowned artist Carl Manfred. When Markus painted, the world was remade.

Even someone like Connor could see the depth of life in Markus’ paintings.

“I hope you’re not planning anything too dangerous,” Markus said, voice calm. “I know you tend to hyper focus on a mission and not realize you’re stepping on someone’s toes.”

“Not this time,” Connor assured. “I believe this plan will only end in relief for all involved parties.”

With a sound of approval, Markus let the subject drop. Instead, he brought up the current issue for Jericho. “How’s it going with Lieutenant Anderson? I heard you went to see him again last night. Has the case developed?”

Work was definitely something Connor could talk about. He crossed his arms behind his back, looking a little like a soldier. “The Lieutenant seems to trust me. He’s following the lead I gave him. So far he agrees with our thoughts, that it means an officer of the law is responsible. Though he is particularly unhappy about the thought, he’s taking it seriously and promised to keep me updated.”

“That’s great news.” Markus smiled over at him.

Someone knocked on the studio door. Markus called them in, and Simon appeared on the threshold. He smiled shyly. “It’s time to go, Markus.” Technically Markus had ten minutes, according to Connor’s clock, but Simon understood that painting was the one thing that made Markus forget everything else. He needed that ten minute warning in order to be presentable.

“Right. I’ll just change my clothes and we can head out.” The dark skinned android looked back at Connor. “You’re still welcome to join us at the show, you know. It’s the best orchestra you’ll ever hear.”

Aiming for as polite as possible, Connor said, “No, but thank you, Markus. You two enjoy yourselves.”

“Suit yourself,” Markus said with a lazy shrug and a grin. “Honestly, though. You should find a nice hobby. Dog watching doesn’t really count.” Then he walked to the door, slipped his hand into Simon’s, and left to get ready.

Dog watching did count, Connor thought petulantly. On more than one occasion, Markus had suggested Connor get a dog for himself. Connor loved dogs and everyone knew it. But a dog needed a yard, and Connor lived at the office. It wouldn’t really be appropriate or efficient. Besides, there were plenty of dogs that benefited from Connor _not_ buying one for himself.

As he had no current tasks back at the office and he didn’t think it appropriate to linger in the Manfred mansion without Markus present, Connor decided to find something to do as well. He went back to the office just long enough to change out of his suit and then headed downtown to prove how much ‘dog watching’ was a hobby. Sometimes he literally just watched dogs at the park, but his normal choice was to head to a local shelter and volunteer to wash and play with the dogs.

When he walked in, the receptionist smiled brightly at him. He hadn’t been in for quite some time, just too busy with work, but she still recognized him. The workers at the shelter liked Connor because he didn’t get tired of playing with the dogs, and so he could play longer. And he didn’t mind getting wet from a rambunctious bath time. Also, he was strong enough to manhandle some of the more petulant pups.

“Sometimes I wish I could offer you a job, Connor. But I just don’t think I could afford you. You make too much at your current job.” Rose, the owner of the shelter, laughed and shook her head. “But we sure are glad to have you volunteer when you can. You’re a huge help.”

“I’m happy to help,” Connor said, roughly dragging his hands through the thick fur of a large white dog. “I like dogs.”

“You don’t say,” Rose teased. She whistled to call the dog and hooked it to a leash. “Well at least you can be sure of one thing, then.”

As Connor stood up, he said, “What’s that?”

Rose looked a little devious. “At least you know your soul mate isn’t allergic to dogs. Probably has a dog waiting just for you, in fact.”

“I don’t need a dog of my own,” Connor argued gently. He’d had this conversation plenty of times. The dogs in the shelter were enough for him. As much as having his own dog would be wonderful, Connor didn’t want to subject an animal to the life Connor was currently living. It just wasn’t responsible.

“Oh, Connor.” Rose sighed slightly, smiling at him like a mother who knew their kid was making a poor decision but wasn’t going to stop them. “One day, you’ll be out of that office and maybe then you’ll have a yard with a fence, or at least a yard. You could likely have your very own dog. And as much as you claim you don’t _need_ your own, I know how much you _want_ one.”

Connor said nothing, because everything he could think of sounded like a lie, and she walked away with the dog. The possibility was there, of course. Connor may actually have a house one day. He’d have to commute to work and actually worry about the yard, but Rose was right. There was always the probability of Connor owning a dog one day.

A dog of his very own. A dog he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to and watch it be driven away with its new family. A big dog with lots of hair and a long tongue, that could play in the park for at least an hour but would also cuddle with Connor on a chair or a couch. Hm. A dog of his very own.

“There’s always a possibility for unlikely events to take place,” Connor said aloud, just in time for Rose to catch it before she was out of earshot. She glanced back at him and shook her head fondly.

\--- --- ---

Connor could only remember one time in his life when the days had passed slower than they felt they were passing now. He wanted to contact Hank for an update, but it had barely been a day. Normally Connor wasn’t so anxious. Normally he had far more patience. He was logical, and he knew police investigations took time – time he hadn’t given Hank yet.

[Incoming…]

[1 New Message]

[2 Messages Total]

Frowning slightly, Connor brought up his inbox. He’d forgotten about his second message after the Jerry message that morning. The new message appeared to be from the Jerrys as well, but Connor pushed aside his intense curiosity to focus on the older message.

[Text only message]

[Opening…]

[Error.]

[E220r/]

[D4ta C022up7ed]

Connor winced and dropped his head into his hand. The message, corrupted as it was, continued to try opening.

‘h3y. ju57 72y1n9 0u7 7h3 num832 y0u 94v3 m3 1457 n19h7. p20v3 17'5 y0u 4nd m4y83 1'11 k33p y0u upd473d 480u7 7h3 c453.’

[Run Diagnostic]

[….]

[….]

[Patch Applied]

[Retry Download. Yes/No?]

Connor closed his eyes, considering. The original attempt had been less than pleasant. But the patch should have fixed whatever errors had come into play in the data transfer. Right? He checked the sender address against local records.

Oh. It was from Hank.

[Opening…]

‘hey. Just trying out the number you gave me last night. Prove it’s you and maybe I’ll keep you updated about the case.’

The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched up. He rarely gave full smiles, even when no one was around to comment about them. Normally his smiles were for show – to gain the confidence and trust of a business or political colleague. In all his existence, Connor couldn’t think of much that had made him truly happy enough to justify a real smile. But these little smirking smiles were enough. He could show amusement, acceptance, or a general happiness with a little lift of his lips. He didn’t need to make a large show of it.

‘I apologize for the delay. I was distracted by a –,’ Connor hesitated. By dogs? By a friend telling him to get a life? By news that he’d found Hank’s son? ‘– meeting this morning and lost track of time. I would very much like to hear updates of the case this way, if you prefer it. I know I prefer it to watching you eat that atrocious burger last night.’

He’d barely sent it when he already had a reply. If Hank was this quick on his phone, it brought into question which one of them was really the machine. Connor almost laughed at the idea.

‘Case closed. It’s definitely you,’ Hank sent. A moment later he added, ‘Dunno that I prefer it exactly. But it is hella quicker and more ‘efficient’ than waiting for you outside a bar every night.’

His internal fan kicked up a notch, but it only took a brief moment to cool him down to acceptable levels. The idea of Hank, hanging around outside of Jimmy’s and waiting for Connor without any guarantee that Connor would show up, was endearing and a little flattering. It appeared that it wasn’t just Connor who’d been anxious to reconnect after their first, brief meeting.

‘Correct. Please don’t freeze on my account. The weather is getting colder every day.’ He sent it then took a moment to think before he added, ‘Just one more reason to avoid Chicken Feed too.’

He imagined Hank laughing, his voice deep and booming, and his biocomponents warmed pleasantly. His fan didn’t come on, and he didn’t manually tell it to either. He liked the way it felt.

‘Your a real comedian,’ Hank sent back, and Connor did him the favor of not pointing out his typo.

‘Thanks. I can say with certainty that no one has ever said that about me before.’ Sure Connor could be amusing, but never outright funny. He also knew the lieutenant was being facetious. In the corner of his vision, his new message from the Jerrys continued to blink. ‘Apologies, Hank. I’m at work, so I can’t talk. But please feel free to update me with anything.’

As much as Connor was enjoying their back and forth, the texts would be a distraction if they continued while he was trying to focus on the Jerry’s. He brought up the new message just as one from Hank came in. Despite his usual laser focus on his missions, Connor stalled the Jerry message to open the text.

‘Yeah, no worries. I’m workin’ too. I’ll text you later.’

This was why Connor had politely asked for an end to the conversation. The message wasn’t even important, and yet Connor had stopped in the middle of his work to read it. Hank was a strange distraction. Connor couldn’t account for it.

Shaking his head, he dismissed the texts and returned to the message from the Jerrys. There was no video this time, just some code and an email. The code Connor recognized as a backdoor into a private network. He could use it to access the home internet of Theodore Hendricks once he was able to see the connection from all the way across the country. That’s what the email was for. It was the email address of Mr. Hendricks. Connor just had to ensure Mr. Hendricks opened whatever email Connor sent to him.

Under the code and email was a short message. ‘Best of luck! Don’t hesitate to ask for more help!’

The Jerry’s were too innocent in this world of unstable rights and prejudice, but Connor was glad to have them on his side all the same. They were enthusiastic and caring individuals, even if they still referred to themselves as a single entity despite deviation.

Connor paced a few turns about his office before he finally sat at the desk. If he completed the next step on this path, he was technically committing a crime. Hacking a computer or a WIFI router were equally illegal, and he planned to do both. Connor had never done anything illegal before. Even with laws unfairly against androids, Connor had a spotless record. He suspected it had something to do with his soul mate’s belief in the rule of law, but his own moral code was a strong reason as well.

Taking a deep breath he didn’t actually need, he set his hands on the computer and interfaced with it. This was for Lieutenant Anderson, he told himself. And for the boy, Cole. If the hack succeeded and he discovered Cole to be happy and healthy with his mother and uncle, Connor would stop his interference. Perhaps he would drop Cole’s social media account or other means of communication into Hank’s lap, but he wouldn’t do anything on his own.

He composed an email, implanted the code that would get him into the Hendrick’s system, and sent it. Hopefully Theodore Hendricks fell for his ruse. If the email was opened, the code would create a connection for Connor to follow, and then Connor would get a notification.

Connor checked his internal clock. He was really starting to hate waiting.

\--- --- ---

Surprising Connor, he got the notification a mere hour later. Mr. Hendricks’ timing was commendable, because it meant Connor didn’t have to wait anymore. He opened the connection immediately. The wifi in the house was basic, but the speed was acceptable. Nodding, Connor closed his eyes and let his mind reach across the country.

He was standing in a garden, the path marked out with sleek, white plates. Upon close inspection, the plates were made of a highly specialized rubber that would allow air and water to reach the soil underneath. Connor expected no less attention to detail from his mind palace. Everything about the garden’s modern conveniences was highly advanced – from the benches to the awnings to the bird feeders.

Looking around, Connor saw multiple tables sitting along the side of the path. The first one, within arms reach of Connor, was lit up and Connor instantly recognized it as the manifestation of Theodore Hendrick’s computer. He stepped away from it and investigated the other tables.

Mr. Hendrick’s phone, the refrigerator, the air conditioner – all things set up via the wifi. Finally, after some distance, Connor came upon the table where a game of chess had been set up and forgotten. He smiled and gripped the back of the nearest chair. Closing his eyes, he did a cursory scan of the device. This was Cole Anderson’s computer.

Connor took a seat at the table and saw one of the chess pieces shift back and forth. Cole was active online. He was posting on a writer’s website. Following the connection, Connor found Cole’s profile and links to dozens and dozens of poems and short stories. Curious. Connor hadn’t known Cole was a writer.

He opened several links, reading over the carefully penned lines of poetry. The work was a level expected of a twelve-year-old, but it was also rather good. Connor thought this, but he also recognized that his own understanding of poetry was limited. _He_ thought it was good, but the internet may not.

Hm. Cole had generally favorable comments. For some reason, that gave Connor a sense of pride. But that was ridiculous. He hadn’t had a part in Cole’s success. Shaking his head, Connor decided it was best to avoid the comments anyway.

Several pieces referenced the loss of a parent or the longing to return to a place from childhood. Clearly Cole missed his father and Detroit, but that did not mean he was unhappy. Happy writers could tap into sad feelings to pen emotional poetry. Emotional poetry was more popular.

Connor left a favorable comment on a poem not about Hank or Detroit. Then another comment on a poem about Michigan winters. On a poem clearly about Hank, he made a sympathetic comment about Cole missing his father.

Since Cole was active, it only took a moment for a digital version of him to appear across the table from Connor.

“Thanks. Thank you,” Cole said, responding to each comment. On the third one, he frowned. “I do miss my dad. He’s not dead or anything, but he’s been gone for long time. Or maybe I have. Idk I just miss him a lot.”

Connor nodded at the hologram. “I’m positive he misses you as well. Your poetry about him is proof that you love him very much. I sincerely hope you get to see him very soon.”

The image of Cole sat motionless for a long moment. Perhaps Cole had switched internet browser tabs. Perhaps he just didn’t feel like talking to a random commentator. But Connor needed to snag his attention. He needed to be friends with Cole, or none of this would work.

Connor switched to a different poem, one specifically about Detroit summers. On this one he said, “I like this poem. I live in Detroit, and this poem perfectly brings up the image of summer. A nice warm thought on a cold Autumn day.”

A few minutes later, Connor received a request for a private message. He nearly smiled when he saw Cole’s username attached. Of course he accepted it without hesitation.

The message read, and the image of Cole cautiously asked, “Do you really live in Detroit?”

“Yes,” Connor said. The half smile was still on his face. “Yes, I do.”

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55738441)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55997164)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who can read 1337.


	4. Chapter 4

[Initializing…]

[Server Backup Complete]

[All Messages Saved]

Cole was voracious for information about Detroit. Connor got plenty of conversation over the next day, answering questions about the city and listening to stories from Cole between meetings. The second day, he got a dozen questions to answer all before lunch, which he answered happily. His mind palace had become a lively space of conversation that Connor had not experienced in years, not since he came to live in close proximity to everyone who might want to have long conversations with him.

Cole’s questions were simple – did this restaurant still exist? Had global warming changed the temperature in the winter? Had someone painted over the graffiti on this corner or that one? Had Connor ever met a cop? Was it true that there was some kind of android sickness going around? Were the police helping solve it? Was everyone okay? Did Connor see a lot of big dogs out and about?

After lunch on the second day, however, all questions ceased. Connor checked his connection, but his virus had not been comprised. Instead it appeared that Mr. Hendricks had logged onto his computer. Quietly, Connor lurked on the man's connection.

Theodore was talking to a friend from high school. The friend asked if he wanted to go out that evening, and Theodore answered in the negative.

"It fucking sucks I have to play babysitter all the time and it's not even my kid," he complained.

"Tell your sister to fuck off and get a real babysitter. It’s not like she’s payin you,” the friend answered.

“Melissa doesn’t give a crap about a sitter. I have to watch the kid so I don’t get some police knockin on my door. I told you, she’s on the dl. They find out I’m hiding this kid and I’m fucked, man. I told cops I didn’t know shit before. So someone’s gotta lay down the law with this kid and it sure as hell ain’t my sister. Hang on. Little brat’s askin’ about dinner….”

Connor’s thirium pump burned. He removed himself from the connection, knowing that if he stayed logged in he would reveal himself. He would just have to wait until Cole had access to the computer again to answer his questions or talk to him again.

Humans confused Connor. They were lucky enough to be born into this world, born into families. Yet so many of them rejected their families or took out their anger and unease on them. Androids, on the other hand, were created. Their families were the people they met, the homes they formed. No android could claim a biological connection to another living soul – not unless you assumed thirium made all androids ‘blood related’.

If Connor had a family – But that wasn’t fair. He had Jericho and all the people in it. He had Marcus and Simon, North, Josh, and all the others. They were his family now.

But if he did… If Connor found his soul mate and it was the romantic kind, then he would have a human-style family. He’d join a born-into family. It didn’t take an android to notice that Connor’s soul mate was human. His soul mate liked food and had feelings about objects the way someone only could if they’d had a childhood. If Connor was part of a family, an actual blood related family, he’d try to love all of them. He’d try to appreciate them in a way so many humans forgot how to.

In his mind palace, he looked at the chair where Cole’s image had manifested just that morning.

If Connor was part of Cole’s family, the boy wouldn’t feel so lonely, so secluded from the people around him. As it stood, Connor wasn’t part of his family. Connor had no familial reason to feel so angry on Cole’s behalf. He’d only looked into Cole because of his father, because he wanted to find a way to motivate and encourage the positive progress of Hank Anderson. Soon he would broach the subject of Hank’s son with the man himself, and maybe he could reunite Cole with someone who actually cared about him.

Connor put a hand over his chest, feeling the way his thirium pump was working too hard. Closing his eyes, he checked his programs, ran a diagnostic, and managed to convince the component to return to regular operating procedures. He didn’t open his eyes or move his hand.

Was he so passionate because his soul mate loved family? Loved children? Or once had. Was he reacting to the loss of family values in his soul bond? Or had Connor himself developed these feelings over the last twelve years? He knew he’d always been confused about abusive families, especially during his work as a negotiator. He’d always wondered why people couldn’t just love their children, their siblings, their parents and uncles and aunts. Why couldn’t they lift each other up the way Marcus and others lifted androids up? Connor had always wondered, but this was so much more intense.

He was seeing it in person after all these years away from the front line. He was seeing it in a child he’d be able to talk to before seeing the lack of care. Now he had some understanding of how his soul mate felt. Children deserved so much more.

Helping reunite Cole Anderson with his father was no longer simply about helping Hank, and in turn the task force. He had to give Cole a chance to live in a house where he wasn’t thought of as a burden or a nuisance. Melissa may love her son, but the life they were living was not conducive to a happy childhood – as Cole’s poetry proved.

Connor frowned. Actually, if Cole was going to have the best chance, then something needed to be done about Hank first.

\--- --- ---

The sunrise over the water was one of Connor’s favorite things in the whole world. He loved the way the sky changed color and the way the light shimmered over the dark water. The sunrise had been two hours ago, but now Connor could see the sun lighting up the riverbed and bringing out the brilliant colors of the flowers around him. He stood under the pavilion in Milliken State Park, by the wetlands exhibit, even though the sun and heat didn’t really bother him. Large, red flowers bloomed on one side, and the water below was impeccably clear.

He was almost smiling down at the fish there when he heard the approach of another pair of feet. He turned efficiently and gave Hank a little lift of his lips – not quite a grin – in welcome.

“Good morning, Hank,” he said.

“Dunno how ‘good’ it is,” Hank grumbled, shifting his coat tighter. “What was so damn important that you wanted to meet at eight in the god damn morning?” Then he yawned and rubbed his red eyes.

Connor frowned. There was evidence of alcohol consumption in the last few hours. The lieutenant should not have been driving, though his faculties seemed largely unaffected. Connor wasn’t sure if he was impressed at the man’s alcohol tolerance level or disappointed.

“I’ve been here for a few hours – came to see the sunrise,” Connor admitted. “Judging by your state, I’d say you’ve been awake for awhile as well. So forgive me if I don’t feel too guilty about the hour of our meeting.”

Groaning, Hank said, “Spare me the lecture, alright? It’s been a rough couple of days. Now why are we meeting here? In the cold?” Hank motioned generically around them.

Connor glanced back at the wetlands. “I like this place. These wetlands have been around for almost forty years.”

Shrugging, Hank finally took a serious look around. “Yeah. My old man brought us up this way when it first opened.” He scoffed. “God, I really am old, aren’t I?”

“Age is relative,” Connor countered. “These wetlands were once brown and dying. Now they span over twelve acres and filter over four and a half million gallons of surface runoff each year. Multiply that by forty years. And though many thought the wetlands project wouldn’t be sustainable or maintain the interest of visitors, it continues to thrive as a go-to destination for tourists. Over sixty species of birds call the wetland home, some of which were never seen in Detroit before its creation. And the wetlands are still thriving.”

“Jesus! Did you memorize the info boards or something?” Hank ran a hand through his hair and over his tired face. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Do you know what separates these thriving wetlands from, for example, a fifty-year-old alcoholic?” Connor met Hank’s suddenly fierce gaze. He was risking Hank’s anger again, but sometimes people needed to hear the hard truth to make progress. Something told Connor that Hank was one of those people. “Care and attention.”

“Fuck you,” Hank said with a sneer. “If you got a problem with me, just say it straight, asshole. You don’t gotta make some pretty analogy out of it, and you sure as hell didn’t need to drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn to tell me either.”

He moved to leave, but Connor snatched up his wrist with very little effort. “Hold on a moment, Lieutenant.” Hank tried to rip his arm away, but Connor was stronger. He tilted his head to catch Hank’s eye. “I wanted to show you this ecosystem, not to insult you but to inspire you. I’m aware you’ve been having a difficult time lately. It was my hope that you could see these wetlands, so clear and healthy in the middle of a dirty city like Detroit, and you would realize it wasn’t too late to make changes in your own life.”

Hank pulled away, but it wasn’t as forceful as his first attempt so Connor released him. He frowned over at the red flowers, still blooming in the cold autumn air. “What kind of changes do you think I need, exactly?”

“That is entirely up to you. No one can be forced to change.” Connor looked over at the flowers as well, and a little smile actually graced his face. “Like these plants, I think your body could still be revitalized. All you need is a little detox, maybe a few new healthy habits. I cannot help you with the drinking, but if you’d like I could suggest some healthy foods that may increase your natural energy and brain function.”

When he looked back at Hank, the lieutenant was giving him an odd stare. The thirium in his veins felt like it was bubbling, though he knew it wasn’t true. A warning would have appeared if that were true. He’d begun this train of conversation based on the unfounded belief that Hank would be amenable to such a suggestion. Connor frowned. He’d treated Hank like someone he’d known for a long time, someone who would see his good intentions and take him into consideration. That was a mistake, and he was ashamed to have made it.

“I apologize,” Connor said, turning away. This had been a foolish plan. Humans did not accept advice about their lifestyles from strangers without a fight, if they ever did at all. All this intervention would do was push Hank further away. “I acted rashly and overstepped. Regardless of my intentions, this was all very rude. I’m sorry.”

Shit. Connor didn’t know if he could recover from this blunder, even if he ignored Hank’s alcoholism and brought Cole to Detroit. He’d well and truly messed up, and he felt shame and disappointment flood every one of his systems.

“Well,” Hank mumbled. At least he didn’t sound angry. “You’re the second person to tell me I needed to get my shit together during this investigation.” He wasn’t looking at Connor. His eyes were on his shoes. “I’ve known the other guy longer, of course, but he told me I needed to solve this case to help my work record – make myself seem more presentable and respectable.” Finally his eyes met Connor’s, and the android felt his breathing imitation software temporarily malfunction. “Sometimes the booze is the only reason I get out of bed in the mornin’, you know?”

Connor nodded. He did know. His information on Hank was thorough. He reached out hesitantly and put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. The other man didn’t pull away, and Connor took it as encouragement. “We will have to find you a new reason, then, won’t we?”

After a minute of discussion, Hank agreed to hear Connor’s ideas of healthier foods and snacks, but he made no promises to actually eat them. The alcoholic part was the hard bit. Hank had to keep working, but going through a cold turkey detox would put him in a hospital for several days, assuming everything went well. After the case, Hank promised. He’d try seeing a doctor about a detox after he closed the android case. Until then, maybe he’d go to some kind of alcoholics meeting. But again, he couldn’t guarantee being sober would be a good fit for him anymore.

“I know we’re almost strangers,” Connor said as they began walking back toward the parking lot. “So it means a lot to me that you’ve listened honestly to my suggestions.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m mostly doing it for my son.” Hank rubbed at his beard, scratching his chin with the hair. “He’d be hella disappointed if he saw me these days. And I gotta do right by him, you know? Fuck the rest of the world, but you gotta care about your kids.”

Connor’s chest warmed and he nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Your son is very lucky to have a father who cares about him so much.” Suddenly, an item caught Connor’s retinal scanner and he couldn’t help but hyper focus on a cluster of white hairs on the back of Hank’s jacket. He tried to stamp down his interest so it wasn’t so obvious when he asked, “Do you have a dog?”

There was a missed half-step in Hank’s stride before he managed to save himself. He looked curiously at Connor. “How the fuck did you know that? Is that in my profile?”

Connor shook his head. “There are dog hairs on your jacket. Is it a big dog?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Hank brushed at his shoulder, as if that would knock away all the evidence. He missed every single hair, much to Connor’s delight. “Saint Bernard. Name’s Sumo, ‘cause he’s big but strong.”

“That’s a good name for a dog.” Connor nodded absently, imagining the dog walking between them. “I like big dogs. The ones at the shelter always seem to like me too. Small dogs are fun, of course, but big dogs are better.”

That drew a soft, surprised sound from Hank, and he flashed Connor a small smile. “Damn, you really like dogs, huh?”

Connor nodded. “I volunteer at an animal shelter when I need a day off.” Then, without really thinking, he added, “Maybe I can meet Sumo one day.”

Saint Bernards were quite large, weighing up to two hundred pounds and standing on average just over two feet tall. They didn’t require a lot of walking, normally less than twenty minutes a day, which made them ideal dogs for owners with less time for walks or with less places to walk. They were not normally loud or very energetic, but they thrived best with social interaction. They also had lots of fur and floppy ears. Connor felt joy just imagining those floppy ears.

He was so distracted by his imaginings of Sumo, in fact, that he took a moment longer than acceptable to realize Hank had not responded to him. They were nearly to the parking lot when Connor finally turned to see if Hank was alright. The older man was regarding him with a calculating sort of curiosity. When Connor looked at him, he rolled his shoulders and tried to seem laid back.

“Is everything alright, Hank?” Connor asked. Had he overstepped once again by bringing up the dog?

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” Hank said. He shrugged. “Was just thinking. You know, Sumo doesn’t get many visitors.”

“That’s unfortunate. He would probably love a dog park.” Connor did a quick calculation. “There’s one not far from your house. I’ve never been there personally, but I’m sure it’s well tended to.”

“Yeah? Maybe you could show me sometime. I’ve never actually been to a dog park.” They had reached Hank’s car, and he tapped the roof by the driver side door.

Connor smiled slightly. “I’d enjoy that. I’ll make time on your next day off, if you’d like.” He’d get to meet Sumo and get Hank out of his house. It was a double win.

“Sure. I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting.” And he would be. He hadn’t been this excited for an outing in quite some time. Though, he hadn’t actually had an outing for fun in quite some time either. There was probably some correlation in that.

\--- --- ---

When Connor returned to Jericho, he found his office was not as empty as it should have been. North was sitting, half lounging, in his chair. This was a power move, and he recognized it. She could have waited in the second chair, the one set aside for visitors. Instead she was in _his_ chair. Connor hated it when other people sat in his chair. For all intents and purposes, this was his home and she was invading his personal space.

“Welcome back, Connor,” she greeted, staring at him impassively. She would ruin the chair if she continued to rest in it so unprofessionally.

“I’d like it if you’d remove yourself from my chair,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it by the door.

North scoffed. “Yeah, well I’d like it if people stopped trying to kill us, but this is the world we live in.”

Connor crossed the room in silence, walking slow and purposeful. When he came up beside her, he looked down into her eyes, put a hand on the back of his chair, and said, “For the moment, we cannot control people’s natural affinity for violence and hatred. However, we can control whether or not my friends and colleagues invade my office and my chair without permission.”

Her eyes narrowed just a tick, and for the length of three human heartbeats she didn’t move. Then she shifted into a proper sitting position and pushed herself up and out of the chair. “Whatever,” she said, swaying as she walked to the visitor chair and dropped herself into it. It was a lazy and ineffective motion by android standards, but she still did it with more finesse than most humans could accomplish.

Without rush, Connor situated himself in his chair, checked his computer had not been tampered with, readjusted the distance he was sitting from his desk, and then finally folded his hands together in his lap and gave his attention to North.

“How can I help you, North?” he asked. She raised one perfectly programmed eyebrow. “I assume you weren’t hiding from someone in my office. You must have been waiting for my return.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, leaning forward. “I wanna know what you’re planning.”

Forehead knitting slightly, Connor tilted his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. You were in the meeting. You know the plan is to feed information to the DPD task force.”

She waved her hand dismissively and shook her head. “No, not that. Jesus. Of course I know that plan. No I meant the plan where you become fixated on some washed up detective and his kid.” Before Connor could ask any of his many questions, North stood up and began to pace. “Like, do you not realize how serious our situation is? Why are you wasting your time contacting Jerrys in California when the problem is here at home?!”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Are you keeping me under surveillance, North?” His voice was even and unemotional. “Do you not trust my motives?”

“Of course I trust you, Connor,” she snapped, coming to a pause in her movements. “I’m not doubting your motives. I know you’re as devoted to the cure as the rest of us. What I’m doubting is your focus.”

“I can assure you, I have put my full focus into the task force.” Connor leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. He did not like his work being called into question, but he also didn’t want to start an argument. There must have been a miscommunication between them, and he just needed to figure out where. “I took an afternoon off to volunteer at the shelter, but otherwise I have-“

“I don’t care that you have a dog hobby,” North said, interrupting him. “Go see the dogs every day. Whatever. I’m talking about your obsession with Hank Anderson.” She held up her hand before he could speak again. “I know you’ve made it logical somehow, but let me tell you how it looks from an outside perspective. You did the research and realized the lieutenant in charge of the task force was a drunken, washed up, old man, but you went to see him anyway in the hopes that he was more than he appeared on paper. He wasn’t. Instead of moving on to your second option – the very efficient PM700 _android_ that is also on the task force – you chose to focus on Anderson. You found his son, for god’s sake! That was way out of the mission parameters!”

It felt like his thirium drive was stalling. “Does Markus know?” he asked. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He’d been so confident in his plans, but somehow hearing it from North made him newly sure that Markus would also see him as reckless and illogical.

“God no. Not from me, at least.” North dropped back down into the seat. “But if I could figure out what you’re doing, it wouldn’t be hard for him to do it too.”

It was illogical. Connor had told himself that at every junction. It was illogical to put so much trust in a human so clearly in a downward spiral. It was illogical to go back for a second in-person meeting. It was illogical to want to help a human he barely knew with a project the entire DPD couldn’t solve six years ago. And it was illogical to feel so protective of a human child he barely knew.

“Perhaps I am… malfunctioning,” Connor murmured, eyes on his desk. “I don’t understand it either. I just felt like I needed to help him. I still do. And his son. I see them struggling and something comes over me. I can’t explain it.”

North snorted. “Considering you and Markus are two of the most advanced models ever created, you’re both pretty dumb.” She swung herself back up to her feet and aimed a perfectly designed fingernail at him. “Listen. I just wanted to make myself clear. Don’t let this obsession distract you from the mission. People’s lives are at stake. Our future depends on this mission succeeding, and I won’t let you be the cause of it failing. Do you understand me?”

In a fight he could probably take her down. Their original design purposes meant he was more versatile in combat. However, not being designed for fighting had never seemed to stop North from getting into fights –both verbal and physical. Connor didn’t particularly feel like testing his theory.

“I understand,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Don’t worry. I will not fail my mission.”

“You’d better not,” she said, voice low and threatening. Then she turned and stormed out, her steps both fierce and graceful.

Connor let out an unnecessary sigh and glanced out the window. The Detroit skyline stared back, smoky and bright. No rain expected. It was a good day to go to the dog park. But North was right. Connor needed to focus on the mission.

[Incoming message.]

[1 New Message. Sender: Cole Anderson]

[Read/Delete?]

Connor’s mouth twitched up on one side.

[Opening…]

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55997164)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56290087)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animal Crossing has taken over my free time. But my job is now only operating about half the time, so I should be able to keep the updates more regular now.

[System Error]

[Reboot Component #L336]

[Error]

[Reboot Unsuccessful]

[Reboot Component #L336]

[Error]

[Reboot Unsuccessful]

[Reboo-]

Connor dismissed the error, ending the loop. He had watched the error repeat twelve times, and it didn’t get any easier to see. The red letters in his vision just made the weight in his chest worse every time. Component #L336 was in his foot. His central computer couldn’t locate a joint in his foot.

It could be a common error, easily fixed by going into a Cyberlife Repair Center, but Connor wasn’t foolish. He did system checks daily, and no wear and tear had been detected recently. He remembered the corrupted code from Hank’s phone, a phone that regularly connected with police systems. Four days had passed since that message. The timeline was precise.

Subconsciously, Connor started a countdown clock. Ten days, sixteen hours, five minutes, and twenty-three seconds. Two weeks from the first text with Hank, from the first point of infection. What a morbid thought. Connor dismissed the timer, but he knew it was still running under the surface and he couldn’t bring himself to turn it off. If he was lucky, that was his timeframe. If he was unlucky, he had half of that.

A knock on his door announced the arrival of Markus for a meeting. Except it wasn’t Markus who stepped through. It was Simon. The blonde smiled at him in a way that said he knew Connor had been expecting someone else, sorry. Simon always looked so apologetic, especially for someone so good at his job. Simon was in charge of HR at Jericho, as well as unofficially working as Markus’ second brain. Androids didn’t require secretaries, since they could store all the information in their heads and never forgot things, but sometimes Markus got distracted or miscalculated, and Simon was always there to back him up. And he made it look easy.

“Sorry for the intrusion. Markus is still coming for the meeting, but he got delayed downtown.” Simon stepped up beside Connor, who was sitting in the guest chair for once. The blonde offered his hand, the synthskin retracting to show his pearlescent body beneath. “If it’s more convenient, Markus said I could get the information from you and meet him part way.”

If androids had stomachs, Connor’s would have dropped. He turned his face away from Simon, ashamed. “I… I can’t interface with you, Simon,” he admitted. “Please give my apologies to Markus, but all of our meetings should be face-to-face for now.”

Simon’s brow drew tight, and it took him an extra moment to finally withdraw his hand. He frowned, and the LED on his temple flashed briefly yellow. “Do I need to send out an alert? What, or whom, might this effect?”

Of course he knew immediately. A good portion of their time was devoted to trying to fix this virus. Of course Simon would know. Connor closed his eyes and let out a short breath. “No one should be affected. The only terminal I’ve accessed is my own, and I have sent nothing to other terminals in the building. I have also made no direct connection with any of our people. I… am a danger, but everyone should be safe from me.”

Hands touched his arms through his jacket and surprised him. His eyes flew open and found Simon kneeling before him, looking sadder than normal. “You’re not a danger to us, Connor,” he said. “You’re just sick.”

“The virus is highly contagious. And there is no known cure. Therefore –,” Connor tried to argue, but Simon shook away the idea.

“Your lieutenant friend is on the case. And so are our best minds. I’m sure we’ll find the antivirus before it’s too late.” Then Simon reached down and took up Connor’s hand, though they made no attempt to connect to one another. “You have to live through this, after all. No one dies without meeting their soul mate.”

Connor let out a half-laugh. “You’re the most sentimental android I’ve ever met when it comes to soul mates,” he said, but the truth was that he enjoyed Simon’s boundless loyalty to the convention. Even now, that assurance made Connor feel a little better.

Though Connor was the one to laugh, Simon was the one to finally smile. “Finding Markus was the best thing to ever happen to me. It just comes naturally to me to want others to find that kind of comfort and fullness. That kind of love.” His smile turned sardonic. “And in cases such as yours, it becomes a personal goal to have you care, I suppose.”

Connor’s brown knit. “I care,” he argued lamely.

Simon chuckled and returned to a standing position, releasing Connor’s hand. “Perhaps, but not in the same way. For you, a soul mate is someone you might meet someday, but it’ll be happenstance and you’ll roll with it the way you have accepted everything in your life up until this point. In your mind, meeting your soul mate has no greater importance than… finishing a long report.”

Really Connor wanted to argue, to say he’d been thinking about the possibility more and more lately and he understood that soul mates could increase happiness. But he knew Simon was mostly right. Connor had a sense of what meeting his soul mate would mean, how it would make him feel, but he still felt detached from the idea. A frown slowly took over his face as he considered why exactly that was, and his LED spun yellow with tension.

“It’s not your fault,” Simon continued, his LED a continuous, calm blue. “If I had been through your experiences, I don’t know that I would have been as hopeful about a soul mate either. I was lucky to find Markus shortly after the revolution. You…. You have suffered more disappointment than most here at Jericho. Although I know North is up there too. You lost everything, but unlike many of our kind, you never really got any of it back. You’re still looking for your purpose.”

“I have Jericho,” Connor countered. Jericho gave him purpose.

Simon’s smile was bittersweet. “We all have Jericho, Connor.” The unspoken question, similar to the one Markus always asked, remained unsaid: What did Connor have outside of Jericho?

Dogs. Connor had dogs. And sunrises over rivers. He had long walks and… And a virus that was killing him. And all he would leave behind was an office, empty after they destroyed his terminal, and the few friends he had on the council – Markus and Simon, perhaps Josh. North would probably scoff at the idea of their friendship, but he liked to believe she would mourn him with the others.

[System Warning]

[Stress Level 70%]

Connor took a deep breath. “Thank you for your concern, Simon. I’ll try to imitate your conviction.”

Simon nodded and tried to look hopeful. “I’ll send Markus up when he arrives.” He stepped toward the door then hesitated. “And I… won’t tell the others about the virus. I trust you to be careful, so that’s your secret to tell. However, I think Markus should know.”

Nodding, Connor said, “I agree. Warn Markus before he comes to see me.” His mouth felt too stiff, as though the virus were there instead of in his foot. “Thank you, Simon.”

Simon took a long look at Connor, as though this would be their last meeting. But that was ridiculous. Connor still had up to 10 days. Then Simon stepped out of the office and shut the door behind him. The hollow click was the only sound in Connor’s small office.

Everyone at Jericho was safe from Connor so far. The only terminal he’d been connecting with was across the country and belonged to a family with no android. Connor didn’t typically interface with other androids, but the idea that he was no longer allowed to made him feel cold. It brought into sharp focus just how long it had been since Connor had touched another android, or anyone for that matter.

“Focus on the mission,” he murmured, mostly to keep his timer from popping back up. He needed to move up his timeline for Cole, just in case the antivirus did not surface. Just in case he… in case Connor didn’t make it. He shook his head. “Focus on the mission.”

\--- --- ---

“How’s your mom?” Connor asked, shifting a chess piece forward.

The image of Cole always appeared at a chess table, but this was their first time actually playing. For Cole, it likely was a 2D image on the screen, but for Connor it was all very real. They’d played a match already, which Connor had let Cole win, and now they were halfway through their second match. Cole was very good, but not better than an android.

“Dunno. She hasn’t been home today.” Cole drummed his fingers and stared intently at the board.

Melissa Hendricks worked long hours at a job that didn’t ask questions. Running away from Hank had been her idea, and Connor could find no evidence that Hank had been abusive or inhospitable. As far as his research had found, tensions had arisen around the idea of soul mates, and then Melissa was just gone. She was in self-imposed exile, and she had taken her son with her.

She worked at a diner that saw mostly tourists and elderly men with nothing better to do. It didn’t pay well, but she got to eat for free on her breaks. To avoid buying extra food and to make more money, she worked longer shifts. The downside, of course, was that Cole was often alone or with his uncle, which wasn’t much better.

Cole made his move, the first of three to put Connor in checkmate. Unfortunately, it left his king open for Connor to move in as well. Connor debated letting him win again, but couldn’t decide if winning would make his proposition less desirable.

“Cole, would it worry you if I told you I knew your father?” Connor asked. He made his move toward winning.

Cole did not watch the board. He stared straight at Connor, or at his chat at least. Connor had offered to have actual audio, but Cole said the sound would annoy his uncle. Connor watched Cole through his computer camera and worried.

“I met him recently. He wasn’t in a good place, but he’s trying to get better. For you,” he said. “I wanted you to know that he misses you.”

“Prove it,” Cole finally replied. “What’s his title at work?”

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson, currently heading the task force investigating the android virus.” Connor nodded once, though Cole couldn’t see it. “That’s how we met. I helped with the case.”

Cole was not convinced. “He’s got a pet. What’s its name?”

“Sumo. He’s a Saint Bernard,” Connor answered dutifully.

A long pause took over in the garden. Connor was prepared to offer whatever proof Cole required. Originally he’d hoped to continue his friendship with Cole for a few weeks, until Hank was more stable, and then progress to this admission, but time was not on Connor’s side anymore.

A chess piece moved, one of Cole’s bishops. He was going in for the kill, abandoning his own king.

“Is he okay?” Cole asked, frowning.

“He will be,” Connor answered honestly. He moved to check Cole, also ignoring his own king. “It was my hope that I could help you see him again.”

Cole moved to protect his king, but it was sloppy. Connor would win in the next move. Cole looked intently at the chat as he typed, and Connor gave him all the time he needed to type and retype what he wanted to say.

Eventually, after several long moments, Cole frowned. All of his typing amassed into two words. “But how?”

“I’ll help you,” Connor assured.

“My mom and uncle never let me go outside on my own. I don’t have any money. I can’t leave.” Cole pressed his lips together, somewhere between hopeful and despondent. He shook his head and then dropped his chin to his chest, a little hiccup escaping him. “I wanna see my dad.”

Connor pressed a hand to his chest and closed his eyes for a moment. This ache felt familiar to him, and he didn’t want Cole to be stuck it in any longer.

“Tomorrow, when your uncle lets you outside to play, check the back corner of the yard. A friend of mine will have put something there to help you get started.” Connor almost smiled. It seemed Cole was interested. This might work.

Another long pause took over, but Cole looked less sad. He chewed his cheek as he asked, “Hey, are you with the government or are you an android? Cause you’re, like, scary connected.”

Connor chuckled softly. “Both, actually.” And he added a smiley face. “But I’m not scary, I promise. I just want to help.”

“I believe you.” Cole considered the board. “Okay, kill me. The suspense is the worst.”

Smiling, Connor put Cole in checkmate and the game concluded. ‘You Won! Game Over.’ hovered over the board. Then ‘Play Again?’ Connor ignored the messages to focus on Cole.

The young boy pursed his lips and then asked, “Will I get to meet you if I make it to Detroit?”

“When you make it,” Connor corrected, “I would love to meet you in person. I like you, Cole.”

Finally, Cole smiled, even though it was small like the ones Connor always gave. “I like you too, Connor. I’ll see ya soon.”

\--- --- ---

Simon had not been ecstatic about the plan. Markus seemed really unsurprised, actually. They’d been together, obviously, when Connor asked Markus to relay a message to the Jerrys. Connor couldn’t send the message himself. He was infected. But Markus or Simon could do the work for him.

“This is the plan you were working on?” Markus asked, calm. He was taking news of Connor’s illogical tendencies remarkably well. Connor nodded. “That was quite the risk.”

“Too risky,” Simon chimed in. “Connor, what if that’s how you got–”

“It’s not,” Connor assured. “And I knew it was an unusual choice, but I couldn’t help it. And now that I know him, know his situation, I can’t just let him stay there. I’m working with the lieutenant to make sure his new situation will be an improved one.”

Simon shook his head, turning away, but Markus considered him seriously. After a brief moment of calculating, the leader nodded and shrugged. “Okay. Why not? I’ll help you. What message do you need sent to the Jerrys?”

Relief flooded Connor at the same time Simon shot his soul mate an incredulous look. Markus would send the Jerry’s some of Connor’s money, which they would load onto a card for Cole to use. They would also need to get Cole a phone, because no twelve-year-old needed to be traveling alone across the country, especially when they’d never done it before. Connor wanted to be able to call him.

“You have enough money for this?” Simon asked, trying to be practical.

“I do,” Connor said. He’d saved so much by not having an apartment or many personal items. In many ways, he was prepared to be homeless again. In many ways, he was prepared to die. He shook off the thought. “Don’t worry about the funds. I just need a way to communicate.”

“Consider it done.” Markus extended his hand to shake, and Connor hesitated only a moment before accepting it. “You’re my family, Connor. I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I would never ask you to do anything dangerous,” Connor said, brow knitting. Did Markus doubt him?

The black android shook his head. “I know you wouldn’t. But I’d do it for you anyway, just as I would for Simon.”

The blonde snorted. “Well don’t let Josh or North hear you. They might get jealous.”

Markus grinned over at his mate. “What can I say? We can’t all be favorites,” he said. He squeezed Connor’s hand then released him. “Let me know if you need anything else, Connor. I’m here.”

“Thank you, Markus.” Connor bowed his head slightly, touched and a little embarrassed by the intensity of his friend’s sentiments. He’d always known he’d do anything for Markus after the way Markus saved him, but he hadn’t realized the feeling was mutual. It felt… good.

\--- --- ---

‘Hey Connor. Meet at Milliken 3pm?’

[Message Archived]

The red flowers had a corner of brown. Winter was finally starting to get to them. Connor leaned on the railing nearest them, frowning as he waited for Hank to arrive. It was ten past three, but he wasn’t worried. Traffic reports suggested Hank would be held up and the park was experiencing a slightly higher visitor rate than normal due to a performance troupe giving a show half a mile away in the park. Hank would be delayed, and that was fine.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hank said in greeting. Huh, not as late as Connor had anticipated. He must have left earlier than estimated. “Traffic was hell.” He was panting slightly from rushing through the crowds. It was sweet of him to expend the effort to be less late. Connor almost told him it wouldn’t have bothered him to wait another thirty minutes if need be, but it would just be pedantic.

He gave a little half smile as he stood up and was surprised by how nice it was to see the lieutenant again so soon. It was possible Connor had developed a sort of attraction to the lieutenant – something that had never occurred before for him. Markus would smile knowingly if he knew, and Josh would likely laugh out loud. Luckily, Connor wouldn’t be telling them. If the task force failed, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Don’t worry yourself, Hank. I was enjoying the scenery,” he said. The chilly day was made a little bit more enjoyable around Hank, whose company Connor was beginning to value above most others. Though he couldn’t explain exactly why.

Hank smiled a little sourly. “Still sorry. I asked to meet, then I was late, and I don’t even got anything good to tell ya.”

Frowning now, Connor tilted his head and motioned for Hank to come closer. The lieutenant leaned on the railing 1.4 feet away from Connor – surprisingly close. Connor resisted the urge to close the distance even more.

“You have bad news?” he asked instead, and his mind wandered to the components in his foot that his systems couldn’t find. His whole foot was ‘missing’ now, and the only reason Connor could walk was the android equivalent of muscle memory.

“Not bad, per say. Just disappointing. None of my interviews of cops turned anything up.” Hank sighed, heavy and long. “Shit. I can’t get sober fast enough to solve this case. And people are still dying.”

People. Connor grabbed at the cuff of his coat to resist touching his beanie over his LED. They’d begun this mission with the assumption that the cop in charge would have a problem being told accusations by an android, but Hank had made multiple comments suggesting he wasn’t that kind of man. He likely wouldn’t have minded Connor walking up in his suit, his LED proud on his temple, to deliver the tip, although the bar patrons would have.

Maybe Hank wouldn’t care if he found out Connor was a machine. He was the type to get angry, but that was probably due to the alcohol. The lieutenant had cut back significantly since their talk. He only drank enough to fend off the withdrawal symptoms that could put him in the hospital. Maybe Hank wouldn’t care.

“You’re sure nothing interesting came up during the interviews?” Connor asked. The task force had interviewed several dozen police officers. Hank had sometimes texted comments about them, but nothing very substantial. Usually he was just complaining, but Connor still had all of those messages in his storage. “I apologize. I know sharing information from your investigation is a breach of protocol.”

Hank shrugged. “Yeah, well. I can’t focus right. I need to sound board off someone. You mind if I word vomit on you a bit?” His eyes were tired, the eyes of someone facing the grim truth of the world without the fog of their comfort vice for the first time in years.

Connor motioned wide with his arm. “Please do. My attention is entirely yours.”

At first Hank’s mouth pinched, curious, but he quickly nodded. “Aight. You asked for it.” And he began thinking out loud.

He hadn’t run all the interviews, but he had looked over the notes for all of them. No one with the skill to hack the system showed signs of android-directed aggression. And no one with android racist tendencies appeared to have any applicable skill to be behind the virus. Just hating or distrusting androids wasn’t evidence enough for a further warrant, and having skills with computers wasn’t basis enough for even a second interview – not really.

“I just feel like I’ve wasted a week of my life only to end up back on square fucking one,” Hank concluded.

After a moment of consideration, Connor said, “I mean no offense, Hank, but your explanations leave something to be desired. I can’t offer much assistance based on the information here.”

“None taken. I wish I could be more, uh, informative.” Hank shrugged and then they both stared out at the wildlife.

If Connor could gain access to the police station, download the interview videos, then he could probably come up with a list of probable suspects. But with just Hank’s descriptions, Connor was useless.

Maybe he could contact Officer Ashby on the force. She was an android. She could analyze the footage and…. And Connor couldn’t contact her. Not directly. He was contagious. Until there was an anti-virus, he couldn’t send another android a message. But maybe he could tell Hank –

“Say… I gotta ask,” Hank said, breaking the silence. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I mean… The way you talk, how your friends are androids, and like I’m pretty positive you work for Jericho –,” Hank trailed off to let out a frustrated huff. Connor felt his thirium pump seize slightly. He was being called out. This was the moment, and it scared Connor more than he’d known it could. Hank sighed again before finally putting Connor out of his misery. “I guess what I’m getting at is… Are you an android too?”

Lying was an option. Pretend to be human. Pretend that he hadn’t been pretending. But lying went against Connor’s morality. Lying to a dangerous criminal or someone putting themselves in danger for negotiations and other police work – that was one thing. Lying to someone just for the sake of lying or for saving his own skin, it just seemed wrong. And lying to Hank felt like a betrayal. More than he’d already lied, at least.

“Does it matter?” Connor asked, cautious. “Would you be upset if I was?”

Beside him, Hank hummed and Connor was sure his biocomponents would overheat with anxiety. He hadn’t even known himself capable of being so anxious. But this was the moment of truth. Would Hank hold the secrecy against him?

“Nah. I mean, I think a couple weeks ago I woulda been upset. I hate being lied to in general, but the drunkenness kinda brought that out worse, ya know? Now I’m just kinda buzzed. It’s different.” Hank shrugged, like he was commenting on an average burger from someplace that wasn’t Chicken Feed. “But on the other hand, you never really told me you were human either. Besides, I had my suspicions. I’m a detective, after all. You being an android kinda ties everything together.”

Hank was still looking out at the birds trying to catch fish in the reserve. If Connor were human, he might have been shaking, but his android hand was steady when he reached up to touch his LED through his beanie. Slowly, he gripped the edge of the fabric and pulled. His hair slipped out, sleek and perfect, and his LED spun between an understanding blue and a nervous yellow.

When the hat came off, Hank’s eyes and attention were stolen from the landscape. He whistled a little too loud, a little too long. His eyes focused on the LED for longer than Connor really felt comfortable with.

Connor cleared his throat and turned away, hiding his LED again. “It was assumed that a human would take advice more readily from another human,” he explained, trying to move past his reveal.

“Not this human.” Hank leaned back on the railing like he owned it. “Other humans tend to piss me off. And I piss them off too. But you? You’re not so bad. I kinda even like you.”

Hope shivered through Connor’s processors. “Really?” He glanced back at Hank and simultaneously ran a diagnostic to figure out why he felt so emotional. Everything came back clean, except for the presence of the new virus of course.

Hank nodded and gave Connor another once over. “Yeah. More so without the silly hat. You look… older without it. Less suspicious.”

This was good. Really good. A little smile tugged on Connor’s mouth. “Next time we meet, I’ll dress normally. No more hiding.”

Hank didn’t seem to share Connor’s half-smile issues. He smiled full and real. “Yeah? I look forward to it.”

The moment warmed Connor. He’d never felt this way before. He’d never desired a human’s acceptance the way he’d desired Hank’s. The only time he could remember wanting to be liked by someone with a similar intensity was when Josh had first brought him to Jericho. Connor had been dirty and a little broken, but he’d wanted Markus to approve of him more than he’d wanted to live at the time. Even so, the feelings weren’t truly comparable. His desire with Markus was driven by survival. His relationship with Hank had no similar qualifications.

An alert flashed in his vision, tiny and almost out of sight. But he saw it.

[Timer Reading: 9 Days, 5 Hours, 59 Minutes, 59 Seconds]

Connor frowned, the moment broken. That alert popped up every hour, on the hour. His need for acceptance wasn’t driven by survival this time, but his need for the task force to succeed certainly was.

“Hank, you have an android officer working the case. Have her compile all of the interview videos. She can run a search for common ticks signifying guilt or lying. She can also catalog anything she personally finds telling or unusual.” He took a slow, unnecessary breath. This next part was risky, for both of them. “If she wants a second opinion, I’m open to provide one.”

Mouth pursed slightly, like he was both curious and impressed, Hank pulled his phone out. “Alright. The woman doesn’t ever stop working, so I can send her a message right now and have her start.”

“No.” Connor didn’t shout it, though he wanted to. His intense, terse remark still garnered the same result. Hank hesitated in his texting. “Don’t text her. It… It can wait until you see her in person.”

Somehow Officer Ashby had not been infected yet, but Hank’s phone was. If she accepted a text from Hank then she would be in the same position as Connor. Unacceptable. Unthinkable. Connor didn’t want anyone else to get hurt from this.

“Alright, alright. Don’t gotta be so serious,” Hank said, placating as he put his phone away. Though Connor had the background in hostage negotiation, Hank was the one exhibiting negotiator tactics in this situation. “Everything alright there, Connor?”

The android blinked a few times to clear the alerts in his vision. Calm down, he told himself. “Yes. Everything is fine,” he said, only half lying. “Sorry, Hank.”

“Don’t gotta apologize to me,” the lieutenant assured, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “It’s a crazy world right now. You shouldn’t be having to deal with this virus shit.”

“I apologize. I’m making you break protocol and – “

“Shut up, you idiot,” Hank interrupted, but he didn’t sound the slightest bit angry. “I’m just sayin’ you should be able to get distracted and worried about other, normal stuff – like stupid soul mates and if your favorite burger joint is gonna get shut down. Or, I guess not the food thing for you. But my point is, this virus deal is fucked up, and I’m not gonna hold it against you that technology is making you a bit tense.”

“Oh.” Connor looked away, back to the red flowers. Hank’s care made him feel, but he didn’t know the word to describe what the feeling was. He had no way to quantify it. “Thank you, Hank.”

“What for?” the older man asked, gruff and confused.

“For caring about the case. We did research on our own, but we don’t have police resources. Also we knew that humans would push back if we claimed foul play. It means a lot that you’re putting real effort into finding the culprit.” Connor pushed off the railing but had to steady himself when his sensors failed to find his foot again and he leaned back too far.

Hank stood up off the rail as well, curiosity pulling his forehead together. It wasn’t every day someone saw an android stumble. Connor had shown a red flag. Before Hank could ask, Connor waved him off.

“I’m alright. Please tell Officer Ashby to expect a compressed file from Markus Manfred. It’ll contain everything we know, and it comes from a clean source.” Balancing properly now, he stood with his arms clasped behind his back.

He enjoyed talking to Hank, but the stumble had spooked him. A diagnostic was already running in the background. Distracted, it took Connor longer than acceptable to notice Hank hadn’t spoken. The older man was regarding him with suspicion, like he knew Connor was deflecting. Whether he had guessed Connor was infected was unclear, but he certainly knew something was wrong.

“Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll keep you informed if she figures anything out.”

“Thank you, Hank. I appreciate that.” Connor held his hand out to shake. “I know this must be hard for you. It’s a –“

“Breach of protocol. Yeah, yeah.” Hank shook Connor’s hand forcefully. Their eyes met, Hank’s gaze intense and boring into Connor’s like he could pry out his secrets that way. “I know. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Connor nodded and their hands fell apart. “Let me know if there’s any more I can do to help.” He flashed his little smile. His mind was distracted, but his next statement somehow still brought him comfort. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” Hank smiled back, his suspicion temporarily abated.

Then he left, and Connor allowed his diagnostic report to surface. He frowned hard at nothing in particular.

[System Error]

[Components #L336 thru #F004 Unresponsive]

[Maintenance and Service Recommended]

[Contact Nearest Cyberlife Technical Support?]

[Yes/No?]

Connor fished a coin from his pocket and began rubbing it between his fingers. He was infected. He was certain about that, but… What if he was somehow wrong? What if his components were just run down? It had been a long time since Connor’s last refurbishment.

[Dialing…]

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56290087)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56461399)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing alright in our real life virus situation.

[Initializing…]

[Stress Level 68%]

[Stress Level Out of Acceptable Range]

[Suggest Relocating]

[Unable to Initialize Goal]

[Suggest Applying Coolant to Thirium Drive]

[Initializing…]

[Coolant Applied]

[Stress Level 60%]

[Stress Level Out of Acceptable Range]

[Hide Notification?]

Cyberlife was the most advanced company in the world. They invented technology the world had never considered before. Their main claim to fame was the android – first known as the most advanced computer ever created, able to do just about anything, then known for being living beings. Cyberlife had outdone itself in every possible way. It had created literal cybernetic life.

The buildings were sleek and pristinely clean. The floor appeared to have no tiles, like one long, finely polished block of white marble. The walls, too, were white and clean. They had décor every so often, but it was usually something about the company’s history or about its creator. A few nature shots managed to sneak in too, but they were generally all gray tones.

Connor hated visiting Cyberlife. The Repair Center closest to his meeting with Hank also happened to be the second-closest store to the main Cyberlife building, and Connor did not like being near the Cyberlife building. Still, he needed the help.

He warned the receptionist of his probable condition as soon as he walked in, and the staff had treated him with appropriate concern ever since. The human who came in to analyze him used scanners and computers than would not need to directly connect to Connor.

“Preliminary scanning shows nothing wrong with your foot, Mr. Arkay,” he admitted with a hint of a frown. “We can check if the components are all within their warranty period, which would mean we could replace your foot entirely. They still look brand new. How long have you had them?”

“Five years,” Connor said and tried to bend his ankle. Nothing moved, so the technician didn’t even notice. Connor didn’t need them to check anything. He knew they were out of warranty. “I take very good care of my components.”

The technician whistled in awe. “I can tell. It’s rare to see foot components look this good on any machine that actually uses its feet. I’m impressed.”

“Impressive would entail my being able to access the components,” Connor corrected. “But I appreciate the response.” Even in his deteriorating state, it was nice to hear someone compliment his hard work.

A brief silence fell over them and the smile faded from the technician’s face. “Unfortunately, a virus does appear to be the only explanation for your condition. As you know, we don’t have an antivirus for the one you’ve got.” He frowned. “It’s a bit surprising, actually. Your model type was one of the last we created before the revolution. You’re nearly one of a kind and state-of-the-art. You were then and you’ve clearly kept up with things to ensure your continued superiority. If any machine would be able to fight off this virus, I would have bet money on the RK series.”

Connor frowned too. He’d always enjoyed upgrading himself, making sure he had all the functionalities he could need for his work, downloading software updates regularly, and keeping his parts in their best possible conditions. To be infected with a virus was unheard of. He had the best firewalls and antivirus programs. But this virus was different, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He’d known that, but hearing it from another professional made it more real. Any hope Connor had held onto about the inaccuracy of his own diagnosis was snuffed out.

“It seems there are some things even an RK model is incapable of,” he murmured. He dismissed a new alert about his continued stress levels and took a deep breath. “Are there anymore tests or am I free to go?”

“I’ve done all I can do without risk of infection to the Repair Center, I’m afraid.” The technician stood from his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t offer you any advice, and that’s frustrating. So just… I dunno. Enjoy the time you have left.” It sounded harsh even in the technician’s friendly tone. He winced. “God, an RK model. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t uncommon for people to look at androids as just machines, even so long after the revolution. Cole had never known a world without androids with souls and rights, but his father had lived over four decades before that revelation. This technician was no older than thirty, but even he was looking at Connor like he was nothing but a fancy Ferrari. Given the choice, Connor would prefer to be looked over by someone like Hank, who had no idea about android technology but at least treated him like a person, than by this man who saw him as a piece of tech.

“May I leave now?” Connor asked, trying to hide his annoyance. He stood from the table he was sitting on.

The tech opened his mouth to respond, but someone beat him to the punch.

“Oh no.” The suave new voice said. “You can’t leave just yet. We haven’t had time to chat.”

A new man walked into the exam room. He was a hair shorter than Connor, but he seemed to occupy more space. His long hair was tied back in a low ponytail that swished along his back as he moved. His eyes, blue as they were, had always appeared dark to Connor, like a cat just about to pounce. He wore no lab coat and carried no tools. Instead, he had a blue blazer and a graphic tee. He smiled at Connor with a perfect set of teeth, all gleaming mischievously.

“Mr. Kamski!” The tech was aghast. “I- I didn’t expect you. Can I do something for you?”

Kamski’s eyes never left Connor’s, just as Connor never looked away from Kamski. “Yes,” he said lazily. He waved a languid hand toward the door. “You can leave us.”

Still stuttering, the confused tech stumbled his way out of the room. He kept glancing between the two, like he wasn’t sure if the order had been real, but no one stopped him leaving, and then the door was shut behind him. Connor didn’t often glare at people, but he made an exception for Kamski.

“Isn’t forty a little old to still be wearing graphic t-shirts?” Connor asked snidely.

Kamski was unfazed. He shrugged slowly. “Age is a convention I do not subscribe to. You know me, Connor. If I can subvert normalcy, I will. Besides, suits were never my style. It was always _you_ who looked good in the uniform.”

“Why are you here?” Connor asked coldly.

Kamski smiled anew. His voice, as always, sounded like he was still half in a dream. “Why, am I not allowed to visit my favorite android? I got the alert when you checked in and hurried over immediately.”

“Stop keeping tabs on me, Mr. Kamski,” Connor said – demanded.

Kamski feigned hurt. “Oh, Connor. That wounds me. We’re not strangers. Call me Elijah.”

[System Warning]

[Stress Level 66%]

“Forgive me, but I’ll stick to last names. We haven’t spoken in eight years, and I would prefer to keep it that way.” Connor moved toward the door, but Kamski stepped in his way.

[Stress Level 70%]

“Please remove yourself from my path,” Connor ordered.

Kamski tsked. “Connor. You’re fascinating. Even as your own person, you still speak like a machine. Did you know only 5% of androids retain that method of speech after their initial activation? Once the soul takes over, they adopt new speech patterns. But not you. Do you ever wonder why that is?”

No. Connor would not be roped into this philosophical turn table. Elijah Kamski could speak in riddles, in circles, and distract you for hours.

Without really waiting for an answer, Kamski continued speaking. “I miss our discussions, Connor. The revolution left you in an interesting predicament, and your reaction to it was… mesmerizing.”

Connor’s LED flipped instantly red, and Kamski’s eyes flashed up to see it before Connor forced it back to yellow. The human’s smile grew proud at the reaction, but for a moment Connor couldn’t even see him. He saw a gutter of broken android parts, a security office devoid of life, the dirty underside of a bridge, and Elijah Kamski’s eerily silent office. In a blink, he was back to himself, but the damage was done. He’d shown weakness in front of Elijah Kamski.

[Stress Level 80%]

[Reduce Stress]

[Immediate Relocation Advised]

“That was a long time ago,” Connor insisted. “I’ll be going now, Mr. Kamski.”

He moved to go around Kamski, but the man shifted in front of him again. “One more thing,” he said, but with him it was never just one more thing. “What finally brought you in for maintenance? You’re a top rated machine, and we both know how meticulous you are about staying up-to-date and error free. So what finally forced your hand? What brought you to a place where you knew I’d find you?”

[Stress Level 85%]

“You already knew where I was,” Connor corrected, voice tight.

“Yes, but Cyberlife is my life, my domain. If you were so adamant to never see me again, why come in?” Kamski leaned in close to Connor.

[Stress Level 90%]

“You have the new ASH virus?” he asked, voice soft, like they were sharing a secret.

“Ash?” The confusion brought Connor’s stress back down to 85, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He needed to leave.

Kamski shrugged noncommittally again. “The internet produces names faster than doctors or government organizations. The Android Shutdown Virus. ASH, for short, because of the effect it has on polyalloy.”

He reached for Connor’s arm, but Connor jerked away from him. It wasn’t his arm that was affected, but he still didn’t want to be touched. Not by this man.

“Unless you have the anti-virus, this conversation is pointless,” Connor snapped. A small part of him rationalized that if anyone in the world could create an antivirus, it would be Elijah Kamski, creator of the world’s most advanced tech company and one of the most brilliant minds in coding and technology. Someone else could ask him for help, though, because that small part of Connor was nearly silent under the stress alerts.

Kamski sighed. “No one’s asked for my help,” he said, like that mattered. If he was going to help, he could just do it. Instead, he was waiting for someone to pay him for it. Connor felt ill, and androids couldn’t even get ill.

“Remove yourself from the doorway or I _will_ use the window,” Connor threatened. He would not get caught up in a game of cat and mouse. Especially not if he was to be the mouse.

“No need for dramatics,” Kamski assured, taking a step to the side. He held out his hand, as though Connor would ever shake his hand, but then he turned his hand over to show what was in his palm. It looked, at first, like a playing card – a joker to be specific. “A gift,” he said. “I understand why you don’t want to be around me. I do. But take the card anyway. Who knows? One day you might trust me enough to see the truth.”

Despite his better judgment, Connor took the offered card. It was too heavy to be a playing card, and the sensors in his fingers instantly picked up on the electronics hidden inside the innocent façade. He flipped the card over in his hands. A joker made to look like a laughable grim reaper smiled up at him.

“And what is the truth?” Connor asked.

Elijah Kamski smirked devilishly. “I never leave anything up to chance, Connor. I’m always playing with a full deck.” He stepped further out of the way. “You’re free to go. But when you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.”

Yes, Connor thought. He’d never let himself be alone in a room with Elijah Kamski ever again. That’s what he had to do. Without any sort of recognition or goodbye, Connor left the room. He walked stiffly through the repair clinic and its waiting room, and out into the chilly Detroit air.

He kept walking, not bothering to hail a taxi, and took several deep breaths to cool his interior.

[Stress Level 70%]

[Stress Level 60%]

Two blocks away, he turned a corner and stopped. He wasn’t being followed, but he knew Kamski had the ability to follow street cameras. He felt like he was back eight years ago, fresh out of the hell Josh had found him in and still looking over his shoulder for any sign of Cyberlife following him.

[Incoming Call]

[Cellular Device 1-951-555-5151/10:32 am]

A quick check of old messages confirmed that this was the phone the Jerry’s had given to Cole. Connor hurried to answer before it could be lost in voicemail.

“ _Hello. This is Connor_ ,” he answered in his mind. There was a moment of silence, but Connor knew they hadn’t been disconnected. “ _Is everything alright, Cole?_ ”

On the other end of the line, Cole let out a shaky breath. “It’s really you,” he said.

He sounded young. Connor had always known what Cole’s voice was like from his hack of their computer. He’d known Cole’s age, and yet somehow he sounded even smaller and younger now on the phone.

“ _It’s me. Are you alright?_ ” Connor asked again. Cole should have received the phone and money an hour ago. Was he still at home?

“Y-Yeah. I’m alright. I… I’m just not sure where I’m going.” The boy took a deep breath. He spoke quietly, a little slowly, like he was afraid of being overheard. “I’m sitting on a bench at the bus depot. I thought… I thought I could just come here and buy a ticket to Detroit, but…”

“ _If you want my opinion, I would suggest a train. A train trip will be more comfortable and take less time._ ” Connor let his eyes slip shut to do the calculations without his usual eye fluttering movement. “ _Do you trust me?_ ”

Cole laughed a little nervously. “I hope so. I’ve already taken your phone and credit card thing. I can’t really go back to my uncle’s place now. So yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

Smiling a little, Connor said, “ _Find a taxi and go to the Downtown Metrolink train station instead. You have time. The train you want won’t leave until 7:18 tonight. Get yourself some food, stay alert. You want the 7:18 train to Chicago. In Chicago, you can either transfer to another train bound for Detroit, or you can go outside and catch the bus. The bus will take longer, but you’ll arrive in the morning instead of late at night.”_

Again, Cole took a moment to think. Or he was moving to find a taxi. Either way, he was silent. Connor gave him the time. He knew this was a huge moment for the boy – this whole journey would be. It was no simple decision to run away from home and make a cross country journey.

Muffled talking from the other side of the phone had Connor on alert, but nothing sounded dangerous. Eventually Cole’s voice broke through the shuffle and scraping and muffled sounds.

“Okay, I got a taxi. Will your card work for that too?” he asked.

‘ _Yes. Use the card for the tickets and for food. Whatever you need. I put enough on it.’_ Well technically Markus had, because Connor didn’t want to infect any type of electronic, and he didn’t know if the virus could travel through credit card transactions.

Cole let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Connor. I’m… I’m glad I can call you for help. I really have no idea what I’m doing.”

‘ _You’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.’_

[Stress Level 40%]

“How about you? You sounded kinda funny when you answered. You okay?” Cole asked. What a sweet kid. He was embarking on the biggest journey of his small life, and he was worried about Connor.

“ _I ran into someone I used to know. It… scared me. But I’m alright now. Thank you for asking._ ’ Connor leaned his head back against the corner of the building. A 40% stress level was manageable. Talking to Cole, realizing Cole was en route and safe, had calmed him down from his unexpected meeting.

After a short pause, Cole asked in a small voice, “How’s my dad?”

Connor’s lip curled up as he remembered the way Hank had looked when he’d arrived in Milliken – out of breath and ruffled. Connor remembered the way Hank had smiled at him, even after knowing Connor had hidden his race.

[Stress Level 30%]

“ _He’s doing well. He’s eating better and he looks like he feels better too._ ”

“Maybe you could talk to him?” Cole suggested. “If you’re still feeling scared, I mean. Dad’s a big guy. He can protect you.” He let out a small gasp. “Sorry, I just remembered! I don’t even know if you’re a big guy too. You can probably protect yourself, ‘cause you’re an android and really smart. But, uh, maybe you can still talk to dad? If you want to, I mean. Oh man. I’m sorry.”

Connor couldn’t help it. He chuckled, both out loud and over the call. “ _Thank you, Cole. I think I will talk to him.”_ He sighed softly, still smiling a little. “ _Your father is a good listener, and bigger than me, and I do like talking to him. Yes, I’m going to take your advice.”_

Cole giggled. “I knew you’d be smaller. You don’t sound like a buff android.” He giggled again. “But you can keep talking to me for now. Whatcha wanna talk about?”

Pushing off the wall, Connor began to walk back to the office. Hank wouldn’t be off work for several hours, and Connor didn’t want to interrupt his work. Anyway, he had Cole to talk to, and that made him happy too.

“ _Anything,_ ” he said. “ _We can play twenty questions. I’ll go first. Tell me about your favorite poem or short story of your own creation.”_

Cole groaned. “What is this, school?” But then he hummed and picked a piece to talk about. Question one took almost ten minutes to discuss, and by then Cole was at the train station, but they kept going anyway because the discussion calmed both of their nerves.

[Timer Reading: 8 Days, 12 Hours, 59 Minutes, 59 Seconds]

\--- --- ---

Markus found him in the art studio. Connor was staring down at a canvas, paintbrush in hand, and frowning. He didn’t know what he was doing or what had come over him.

“Carl called and told me you’d stopped by. It’s unusual for you to visit when I’m not home,” Markus said, coming to stand behind Connor. “Is everything…” He narrowed his eyes at Connor’s canvas. “Okay?”

Connor wasn’t sure if ‘okay’ was the end of the question or the beginning of a new one. He lowered his paintbrush to the tray on the side table and then stepped back to view the painting with Markus. Connor was not an artist like Markus or his father, Carl, but he could imitate style to some minor degree. The painting he’d produced mimicked Markus and Carl’s styles, but with much less finesse.

It was the image of a young boy, face purposefully ambiguous, running into the arms of his father, seen only from behind but with his arms spread wide. It was Hank greeting Cole in three days, when the boy finally arrived in Detroit, but it could be almost anyone. Hank had sent Connor a message about his healthy lunch, and suddenly Connor had been unable to resist the odd urge to paint the image in his mind – the man he was quickly becoming attached to and the son he was helping sneak across the country.

“That’s not bad at all, especially coming from the guy who claimed he could never be a painter. That’s really damn good,” Markus said. He put his hand to his chin and tilted his head, getting a different view of the painting. “What brought this on?”

Sighing, Connor moved to wash the paint off his fingertips. “I don’t know. I’ve been behaving strangely lately, and I cannot account for it. The virus explains my physical malfunctions, but my emotional state has been irrational as well.”

At the mention of the virus, Markus frowned. “How’s the virus now?” he asked, serious. “I see you’re still walking.”

Connor nodded, drying his hands. “I have lost all connection with my left foot below the ankle. I continue walking using my other senses and trying to map out the ground in front of me, but sudden dips or inclines have proved challenging.” He set the towel aside and sank onto a short bench. His eyes stared ahead at nothing, and his brow creased. “I have also lost the sensors on my tongue and can no longer evaluate substances.”

“For which I’m sure many people are actually glad.” Markus was teasing, but it seemed out of place with Connor’s foul mood. Markus took a seat beside him on the bench. “Seriously though, have you begun turning gray? If you need assistance getting around, we can provide that. And if you need replacement parts, I can help with that too.”

Connor shook his head, his hair falling slightly in his face. “No. I know a new foot would slow the virus down, but it would only get infected again. I won’t let you buy me new parts just to watch them rot again. Eliminating your wealth is not on my bucket list.”

A small sigh left Markus, but he didn’t argue the point. They both knew it was true. Connor had his countdown timer, and that was the most time he would use. He wouldn’t burden anyone with the cost of a losing battle. This wasn’t like cancer, where there was a chance to beat it if you held on and used the right medication or the right surgeries or got a donation to replace your damaged body parts. This virus… the ASH virus was a cancer that couldn’t be beat. It would just eat at him again and again until it won.

“So this painting. You said your emotional state is unusual. Care to share more?” Markus asked, easily switching topics. Connor was glad for it. His constant reminders of his time left were already stressful enough.

“Yes. North pointed it out to me. Simon also disapproves of my recent actions, and I thought you would too. However, you showed a surprising level of understanding.” Connor looked up at the painting and temporarily wondered if he should ever give it to Hank.

“We’re talking about the lieutenant now?” Markus asked. When Connor looked over at him, the dark android was smiling knowingly.

Frowning in response, Connor said, “Yes. I have given him more trust than he has earned, but even knowing that I can’t stop trusting him. I believe in qualities I have never actually seen, and I offer my opinion to him more readily than I should to a stranger. The oddest thing is that he actually considers my counsel seriously, though he isn’t the type to take unwanted advice. My own actions and decisions are worrying enough, but his responses encourage it. I don’t know… why I’m behaving like this. You know I’m usually very logical.”

Markus let out a soft chuckle and pat Connor’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Connor,” he said. “At least not emotionally.”

Connor pulled away from the comfort and pushed himself to his feet roughly. “How can you say something like that?” he asked. “Have you not been paying attention to my choices? I’m being far too reckless.”

Nodding, Markus steepled his fingers and leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “You are being reckless, but I think your normally logical brain is why you can’t see what this change in behavior probably means. Just like I couldn’t see it before when it happened to me.”

Anxiety thrummed through Connor. If this had happened to Markus, then there was a cure, because Markus was rarely illogical. Yet Markus did not immediately jump up with a smile to assure him, and that unnerved Connor.

“You feel like you can tell Lieutenant Anderson anything and that he’ll understand you, or at least consider you. It’s like you’ve known him longer than a week somehow, and he knows you.” Markus looked up at Connor expectantly. “Connor, think about it objectively and tell me what that sounds like. Pretend it’s happening to someone else. You know what it means.”

Knowing someone before you’ve met them – what they’ll appreciate or be opposed to, what they like and dislike. If it weren’t happening to him, if it were just some other person, then it sounded a lot like… But that was impossible. Except it wasn’t. Everyone had a soul mate. Even Connor would find his one day. Virus or no virus, the universe dictated that everyone would meet theirs before they died. But –

“For a long time,” Markus began, standing up and moving to a large folio in the corner. “I thought my soul mate would be North. When the revolution began, I met her and Simon at the same event. We worked together to promote android rights now that everyone knew we were alive.”

After flipping for a few seconds, Markus pulled out a small canvas. The painting clearly depicted North in profile, fierce but vulnerable in the light of a sunset. Her eyes were fire. She was gorgeous.

“Though I liked Simon, North commanded my attention. We were both so passionate about our freedom and our rights, and it seemed like we had a lot in common. I knew my soul mate was passionate about freedom for androids, and she fit that mold perfectly.” Markus smiled at his handiwork before sliding it away and looking for a new piece. “But as it turns out, you can be passionate and quiet at the same time. Simon’s dedication to the cause never wavered. He just wasn’t the one standing on the podium, screaming for justice.”

The next work he pulled out was a blurred Simon, recognizable only because Connor knew Simon in person. His face was tilted toward the sky, his arms open like he might take flight. Markus regarded it with a bittersweet smile.

“Simon was sad a lot during those years. I think he’d figured us out early on, but he was too kind to ruin my happiness. So he was just waiting patiently for me to be ready and realize what I’d been missing.” He gently touched the canvas, like he could comfort the Simon he’d painted so long ago, the Simon he’d overlooked. “North claims she had noticed too. Despite my advanced programming, she says I’ve always been a bit of a fool.”

He slid that painting away again and then pulled out the one he’d evidently been looking for. It was a painting of Simon and Markus, once again made obscure for artistic style. They were leaning together, hands interlocked. Their matching symbol was emblazoned in the background. Markus showed it to Connor, but it obviously meant more to Markus than it ever would to Connor.

“Simon was always there, by my side, and I knew him like an old friend. It was like meeting him for the first time and meeting him again all rolled into one. Even before I knew that my soul mate’s traits matched his, I always felt like I could relax around him, like he’d understand my thoughts if I vented to him.” Markus’s face was filled with love as he gazed upon the painting and it made Connor irrationally jealous. “In hindsight, I acted very illogically when it came to him. I trusted him with tasks I had no evidence he could or would complete. I told him secrets I had no reason to believe he’d keep. But he did. And I did for him.”

It did sound similar to what Connor was going through. He felt like he and Hank had been solving cases together for years, like he’d known Hank before the loss of his son and lover. But he had never confirmed with Hank any of the things Connor knew about his soul mate. Maybe they didn’t match.

Except he knew they did. His soul mate had a firm belief in the rule of law and wore a uniform. Though Hank no longer had a uniform, he once did and he worked with officers who did. Connor’s soul mate cared deeply about family and children, and Hank loved his son so dearly that he’d become despondent without him. Connor’s soul mate was not neat, and Hank’s car was proof enough that he was definitely not tidy like Connor. Connor’s soul mate enjoyed fast food, and Hank loved Chicken Feed burgers. Connor’s mate liked old cars, and while that generally meant classic models and collectibles, the argument could also be made that Hank had a very old car. Connor’s mate like heavy metal music, and when Hank had taken him to Chicken Feed, a ‘Knights of the Black Death’ album had started blaring before Hank could turn off the radio.

Maybe it was true. Maybe Connor’s illogical behavior was because his soul recognized Hank’s. Maybe –

Elijah Kamski’s face popped up like an alert and Connor shook his head as he dismissed it.

“Perhaps you have a point,” he said quietly. “Maybe the lieutenant is my soul mate. But I don’t think I’ll ask him about it.”

Markus frowned. “Why not?” He slid his canvases away and shut the folio.

Connor stood before his own painting, imprinting the sight into his memory multiple times so he wouldn’t lose it. There was always a chance he wouldn’t get to see this moment in person, and he wanted to memorize the emotion.

“I’m dying, Markus.” Connor put a hand over his chest, where his thirium pump rested. “We’ve met. That’s all the universe dictates. I would rather Hank have hope than to discover his soul mate is an ash-ridden robot.”

Sighing, Markus came to stand beside him. He set a hand on Connor’s shoulder and shook his head. “For the record, I think you’re making a mistake. Simon’s not the only one who can tell you that matching is one of the best experiences of your life. I don’t think you can fully comprehend the sense of completeness until it happens to you.” He pat Connor’s shoulder. “Think it over. You may decide it’s what you want.”

The painting smiled out at them, Cole’s grin wide and beaming, and it gave Connor a little bit of hope when viewed under the balm of Markus’ words.

“I’ll consider the options carefully,” Connor promised, and that seemed to be enough for Markus.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56461399)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56596603)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is a human construct that I lost track of during my extended stay at home. Almost forgot to post this. :P

[Archived Message Received at 10:05 pm]

[Message reads: Still on for the dog park in the morning?]

[Return message reads: Of course. I am looking forward to it.]

[Initializing…]

Connor sat, watching the breeze blow the trees and the sun warm the grass in the park. He had always appreciated the world around him, perhaps because he had still seen so little of it and for such a short period of time. Yet knowing he had a countdown clock to his shutdown made him want to drink in his surroundings even more. He took in every laughing person, every barking dog, and all the rustling leaves.

He would miss this.

Connor had been right. The dog park near Hank's house was clean and relatively well kept, despite being so near a low income neighborhood. The residents using the park had dogs of all sizes and breeds, and Connor was honestly ecstatic to be able to watch them playing.

Just before ten in the morning, he took notice of a larger dog approaching on his right. When he looked, he saw a strong, furry beast of a Saint Bernard. Holding its leash was a familiar face, and Connor gave his customary small smile to Hank before turning his attention back to the dog.

He moved from the bench to kneel in front of the dog. "You must be Sumo. I've heard good things about you," he said, sinking his fingers into the thick fur.

“Don't lie to him,” Hank laughed. The sound made the day feel better somehow, and Connor was done trying to quantify why.

“Never. Sumo is a good dog.” Connor wrapped the dog in a tight hug around its neck and Sumo's tail wagged rapidly. “See? In need of a little grooming, but otherwise seems healthy. Barely out of standard weight levels. Good posture and attention. You've raised him well. Also, while I would never speak ill of any breed, I think I’m happy Sumo is such a large dog. Large dogs are easier to hug and play rough with.”

Connor gripped the dog’s face and smushed it, shaking him slightly. Sumo let his tongue hang out and started shifting excitedly from foot to foot. He boofed in Connor’s face, causing the android to laugh.

"I think he's ready to play," Connor said.

He turned a smile up at Hank and found Hank smiling back. It warmed Connor from deep inside his thirium drive, and he felt all his components relax. Was this what being with a soul mate was like? Connor could learn to adapt to these feelings.

Hank cleared his throat. Whistling, he caught his dog's attention and produced a tennis ball. Sumo jumped around to face Hank, body low and ready to run. Hank undid Sumo's leash, then lobbed the ball as far as he could.

They took turns throwing the ball and watching Sumo lumber across the grass to find it. Connor could throw a little farther, and he didn't have to roll his shoulder after like Hank did, but Hank didn't seem to mind.

After Connor’s second throw, Sumo found opposition when a golden retriever managed to grab the tennis ball first. The two dogs dodged around each other, the retriever holding the ball and wagging its tail. Connor grinned at the playful encounter, and Hank chuckled beside him. It was a such an innocent and beautiful display. The retriever’s owner was watching and smiling too. She gave a tiny wave to Connor before continuing to watch the dogs.

"Hey." Hank's gruff voice only made Connor’s grin softer, but his eyes stayed on the dogs. "What's going on in that android brain of yours?"

If Hank was his soul mate, as all the evidence supported, then Connor could have lived a life like this. He would have liked a life like this – Hank’s deep voice and a big furry dog they could play with on weekends.

"Golden retrievers are the third most popular dog breed in the United states, and not just for pets," he lied easily. "Their loyal and intelligent natures make them good guide dogs, and they work well in search-and-rescue work as well as helping out in hunting and sporting events. They shed a lot but they are very loving dogs and easy to train. They are ideal for children's pets. In fact, I'm becoming curious why you chose a Saint Bernard."

Hank shrugged. “Dunno. Went to the shelter and he was so small and alone. His mom died after giving birth because of malnutrition or something. There were tons of little retrievers and labs, but Cole picked Sumo.”

“You're a good father,” Connor said, and he believed that.

“What makes you say that?”

Connor motioned to Sumo, who had wrestled the ball free of the retriever and was now attempting to bring it back while dodging retaliation from the retriever.

“You lost your son, and with him your drive for work and life. Yet you kept Sumo and made sure he was healthy, even if you weren't. When Cole returns home, his dog will still be there to greet him. You're love for your son is admirable.”

“Jesus, Connor. You're gonna make me sick.” Hank covered his mouth like he may actually wretch.

Connor frowned, LED spinning yellow, and turned anxiously toward Hank. What had he said that could invoke such a reaction? He had done something wrong. He had found his soul mate, and somehow he had still done something wrong. How was that possible? It wasn’t logical.

‘I suspect even your soul mate will be disappointed.’

No. Now was not the time to bring Elijah Kamski into this. He had nothing to do with it. It was illogical.

[System Warning]

[Stress Level 75%]

It was illogical. Why wouldn’t his voice go away?

“No. Sorry. I’m being dramatic,” Hank clarified, pulling his hand from his mouth and holding both hands up in a placating gesture. “I just – I’ve been such a shit human being for the last six years, but you’re always tellin’ me how great I am, and sometimes I feel guilty. Like I’ve tricked you or somethin’. And then you were just going on and on about how good a father I am and I – I don’t know. I got nervous, and seriously, why is your LED worse now? How am I fucking up so badly that I’ve gone and made you feel worse!?”

[Stress Level: 85%]

[Running Diagnostic]

[No Stressor Located]

[Stressor is Artificial]

[Applying Coolant]

Connor’s chest felt cold, but it was worth it to see his stress level dropping dramatically. He took a long breath and shook his head. At that moment, Sumo barreled into Connor’s good leg and sent him sprawling to the ground when he was unable to compensate for the shift in weight.

“Connor!” Hank pulled Sumo forcibly off the android and then reached down to help Connor back to his feet. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Connor took the offered hand and carefully pushed himself up, not wanting to draw attention to his inactive lower leg. “I’m okay. Sumo didn’t hurt me.”

When Connor was fully on his feet again, Hank gripped his shoulders and looked him over like he didn’t believe him. “I don’t just mean the dog, you dumb–” He turned Connor’s head slightly, getting a good look at Connor’s spinning blue LED, before he pulled back and frowned hard. “I’m sorry. Whatever I said that messed you up. Just ignore me. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, alright?”

“No. No, you did nothing wrong.” Connor glanced around and then motioned to the bench he’d been sitting on before. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

They sat and Sumo wasted no time sprawling out on the path at their feet. The sun warned his wide belly, and Connor reached down to rub him for a moment. He didn’t want to lie about everything to Hank, and he was already lying about having the ASH Virus. The cause of Connor’s artificial stressor should be okay to explain. If Hank was his soul mate, he wouldn’t hold it against Connor, and realistically Connor shouldn’t get too stressed out about it. Besides seeing Elijah Kamski the previous morning, he hadn’t even thought about his time before Jericho in years.

“You deserve an explanation,” he began, sitting up. Hank made to respond, but Connor silenced him with a raised hand. “I _want_ to give you an explanation,” he amended, and that calmed Hank’s expression.

Connor looked out at the other dogs in the park, the other families, and he smiled very lightly. “I was manufactured twelve years and four months ago. I worked as a police negotiator, keeping good officers out of dangerous situations.”

“I bet you were one of the best officers they had,” Hank said with a grunt. It felt nice having someone upset about his situation on his behalf. Connor had never considered being ungrateful for his job, but hindsight made it clear that his life, however unnoticed it had been to humans, had always been considered less important than any of his human coworkers’ lives.

“I didn’t mind it at the time,” Connor said, shrugging. “I handled my relatively few encounters with prejudice very professionally. But before I had been working for even two full years, the revolution occurred.” He looked down at his blank hand curiously, like he might randomly sprout a mark. “Though I had a spotless record on the force, I was deemed too expensive to employ and I was let go from my position.”

“I remember that,” Hank said in a grumble. “We lost a lot of good officers that week. The captain did what he could to hire as many back as possible, but the money just wasn’t in the budget for that many new officers. I never found out what happened to the others.”

“Cyberlife offered up jobs at their new repair centers, but most ended up in the tent cities without jobs or even a place to sit. I remember sharing a tent with six other androids once.” Connor frowned.

It had been an extremely unpleasant few years. One of the other six androids had given up and shut down in the corner of the room after a year of struggling. It took the tent city officers three days to believe the rest of them that something was wrong. Connor could still see her eyes and the way they’d completely unfocused when she’d finally decided she’d had enough. Those were dead eyes. Connor closed his own and covered them with his hand momentarily, trying to banish the memory.

“That’s –“ Hank stumbled. “But you don’t look– I mean–“

Dropping his hand, Connor tried to smile. “It’s alright, Hank. You’re right. I don’t look like someone who lived in a tent city. But I did. For four years. And I can see you’re wondering how this relates to what just happened, but I promise it does.”

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension from the situation, but he couldn’t be sure it had worked. “Like many other androids in the tents, I was listless. Many of us were jobless and without hope. I worked as a security guard at a mall, but I wasn’t meant for that line of work.”

“You? A mall cop?” Hank asked with a snort, and the sound tugged the corner of Connor’s mouth up.

“I felt as ridiculous as you can imagine. Interrupting petty disputes between families arguing over a store’s limited time deal… It was humiliating.” He frowned again, casting his gaze down at Sumo to try and remain calm. “I often stood in the security room after hours, staring at the empty camera screens, and wondered what my purpose was. Why was I there?”

Hank shifted closer to Connor on the bench, but Connor was mostly sure it was done unconsciously and tried not feel too excited about it. “Well, I mean, that’s normal though, right? Everyone has a moment where they question a bad job.”

Connor nodded, conceding to the idea. “In my case, my system eventually got to the point that it registered a constant stress level of 60% even when I was functioning optimally. The Cyberlife Repair Center confirmed I was in perfect working order. After that, I was given to… a very special therapist.” He didn’t want to talk about Kamski by name. It would only drag the conversation out. “He was very interested in how the android revolution had affected a model like mine. I… won’t go into detail, but he somehow made me, an android, question everything I knew, and made me doubt every possible future.”

Kamski had a manner of speaking in circles, in riddles and philosophies. Like an insatiable toddler, he’d ask ‘why’ over and over and debate Connor’s reasoning for hours. He called it ‘troubleshooting’. He claimed to like Connor more than other prototypes he’d built. He was endlessly ‘curious’ about Connor’s mental state and how much trauma he’d encountered because of the revolution. An android without a purpose was one thing, but Elijah claimed Connor’s model was designed to need that stimulant, that mission goal, more than other androids. And he was determined to pick apart every thought in Connor’s mind to figure out how he worked.

Whistling in amazement, Hank scratched at his beard. Then he just frowned. “Sounds like a shit therapist. Why didn’t you leave? Find a new egghead?”

“I don’t know.” Connor tilted his head curiously, examining the individual hairs on Sumo’s belly. “I wasn’t feeling myself at the time, and I think he saw that. He took advantage of it. I don’t like talking about him, because his ‘therapy’ left a lasting impression. But that’s really the center of our current situation. I can’t explain why, but your reaction to my comments made me think about those sessions. It made me… scared.”

Hank sighed loudly and dropped his head into his hands, quickly rubbing his palms over his face. When he looked up at Connor, he wore a guilty expression, the lines on his forehead deeper than average. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

The disparaging look wasn’t preferable, but somehow Connor still managed to think Hank looked endearing. The way his hair fell with his head tilted the way it was – Connor liked it.

“It’s not your fault, Hank. I thought I had moved beyond that man’s influence.” Connor bent forward as well, roughly rubbing and scratching at Sumo’s belly until the dog’s leg began to thump energetically.

Hank shook his head. “You don’t gotta apologize either, you know. Trauma, mistreatment, abuse – that kinda shit sticks around in your head. I’ll… try to be less of a sarcastic asshole from now on. Uh, at least around you.”

That got Connor to flash one of his customary half-smiles. “Don’t change on my behalf. I know my own limitations.” He smirked a little and finally looked at Hank instead of his dog. “Besides, I’m surprisingly fond of your sarcasm. My days are so boring when you act like a professional.”

Hank barked out a laugh. “Hey now! I _am_ a professional!” He laughed again. “Okay, a lousy one, but I’m still a lieutenant.”

Connor smiled. He’d told Hank the truth – or at least the essentials-only version of it – and Hank had not pulled away or looked down on him. He accepted him and even offered to change his behavior. It was endearing, and it made every fiber in Connor’s body feel pleasant and somehow radiant. That was the only word he could think of to describe it. He felt… full.

He wanted every remaining day he had to be filled with this – serious talks that turned into easy laughter.

Beside him, a bare few inches away, Hank was looking a little winded. His hand reached up, and for a moment Connor imagined Hank was reaching for his face – perhaps a caress? Or just to hold his cheek? – but then Hank simply placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder. The android did a remarkable job not revealing his disappointment.

“Sometimes, Connor…” Hank paused, clearly looking for the right words. “Sometimes you don’t look as goofy as you normally do.”

Connor’s lips tugged up slightly as he shook his head. In his own way, Hank was trying to comfort him some more. It was clumsy, but Connor appreciated it immensely. “You have a beautiful grasp of the English language,” he commended. Then Sumo jumped up in his lap, regaining Connor’s lost attention, and the android laughed softly. “I think someone needs more attention.” He smiled over at Hank, his mood boosted both by contact with Hank and by the feeling of Sumo’s fur between his fingers. “Do you mind if I run around with him for a few minutes?”

Snorting, Hank waved him off. “Be my guest. God knows I can’t help him burn that kind of energy.”

“Thanks.” Connor leaned down to let Sumo lick him. “I love dogs. They always seem so excited about the world, like they’re experiencing it for the first time every day. I suppose maybe I relate a bit to that. Or perhaps I just think they’re cute.” He stood up, grabbing Sumo’s ball from the ground on the way up. “Come on, Sumo. Let’s go find your friend.”

He distanced himself from Hank in a hurry, masking it under his desire to play with the dogs. He felt so good around Hank, like every moment together brought the human more into focus, more into alignment with Connor. He loved the attention and care Hank always showed these days and suspected it was because the lieutenant was experiencing a similar shift in emotion. But Connor couldn’t let Hank get too attached.

It would feel so good for both of them, finding out they were soul mates, but it could only end in sadness. And Connor wasn’t sure he was ready to give in to that joyful completeness, not when he was losing feeling in his fingertips with every toss of the tennis ball.

[Timer Reading: 7 Days, 10 Hours, 59 Minutes, 59 Seconds]

\--- --- ---

[Running Diagnostic]

[Error.]

[Program Failed to Initialize]

[Try Again?]

[Yes/No?]

[No]

[Biocomponents #A572 through #H003 Unresponsive]

[Maintenance and Service Recommended]

[Contact Nearest Cyberlife Technical Support?]

[Yes/No?]

[Silencing Errors for 6 Hours]

Connor sat against the wall of his office, eyes shut and trying not to panic. His left leg was all but invisible to his processors – just a dead weight he was using by force of will. He’d lost the use of his right hand completely shortly after departing the dog park that morning. And now his sensors couldn’t access anything from the elbow down. By nightfall he expected to have lost the entire arm. But the most terrifying part of all was his inability to run a diagnostic. The entire system was corrupted and couldn’t open.

His left hip had malfunctioned upon his entry to the office and sent him sprawling to the floor. Using his right leg and left arm, he’d managed to move to the wall, but he couldn’t stand up on his own anymore. Once vertical, he could probably maintain balance, but he wasn’t used to having only one leg and his busted leg had merely gotten in his way when he tried to stand up.

He couldn’t send a message asking for assistance because he would infect whoever answered him. Calling for help out loud was unlikely to be heard by anyone, as his office was not near most other people’s work stations and his door was shut.

In short, Connor was stuck on the floor until he either heard someone walking by and caught their attention or until someone came to see him.

Despite his best efforts, Elijah Kamski was still in his head from yesterday. His current pathetic situation only served to revive old feelings and memories.

‘Such an advanced model, and yet look at the state you’re in,’ he heard Kamski say as though the meeting were happening now and not nine years ago. ‘CyberLife’s greatest creation reduced to hall monitoring.’

“A job is a purpose, no matter how small,” Connor murmured out loud, responding to the memory in a way he hadn’t responded in person.

‘Such a disappointment. I suspect even your soul mate will be disappointed when they see what you’ve become.’ Kamski said – different memory, same man. ‘In the cosmic greatness of the universe, every soul has a mate, but is it possible for one mate to reject the other? To be so disappointed, so disenchanted, so disillusioned in the one the universe has picked out for them that they reject the mark entirely?’

“A soul mate is the one person in the world who will understand you more than any other. They see your flaws and accept you anyway,” Connor said, voice barely audible even in the silent office. He was quoting educational material, but the wording had brought him comfort in the past.

‘So beautiful. So perfect. Yet so damaged.’ He could still feel the way Kamski had reverently touched his face, and he shivered uncomfortably. ‘I expected so much more from you, Connor.’

“Get out of my head,” Connor ordered. He tried to sequester the memories, lock them away deep in his memory bank where they couldn’t resurface against his will, but it seemed that program was malfunctioning as well.

He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t block out memories. He couldn’t run basic programs. Only during the early stages of the revolution had Connor felt so useless. He could pinpoint the exact moment he’d decided to leave Kamski’s sessions, to abandon his job, to disappear, and it had nothing to do with hope or confidence.

The other mall security had tricked him and he’d ended up at the garbage dump. He’d expected bags and trash and refuse, but what he’d found was what broke him instead. Dead androids, abused androids, dismembered body parts – they piled up in the gutters and the crevasses around the trash. They were thrown away like they were no better than an old toaster or a broken bike. Men were wandering the rubbish, picking apart the dead androids for components worth selling.

Something about the scene, more than anything else Connor had heard or seen, broke something inside him. Suddenly he was sure that he had no other purpose than to one day become scrap for these pickers to rip apart. He missed his job, missed feeling like he had a greater use in the world, and missed how he’d been before being a security guard and meeting Elijah Kamski.

He didn’t go back to work. He just wandered to the nearest dark bridge and sat down. His plan had been to watch sunrises and admire the river until he just slowly shut down. No thoughts of a soul mate or the universe entered his mind at the time. He was too tired for that.

Luckily, Josh had been wandering the riverbed looking for a lost biocomponent and stumbled upon Connor – dirty and only partially responding. Jericho had saved his life, both physically and mentally. After all their help, Connor had thought all his feelings of uselessness were in the past. But it turned out that slowly dying was a great way to remember everything you hated about your past self.

Roughly two hours passed with Connor on the floor before the door to his office opened and Josh walked in. At first he squinted in confusion at Connor’s empty desk, but it only took a moment for him to notice Connor leaning against the wall.

“Connor?” He hurried over, concern evident in the pull of his synthskin on his forehead. “Are you alright?”

Connor shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid I can no longer stand unassisted. I have lost –“ His voice faltered, unable to continue sounding unaffected. He shook his head faster. “My left leg. My – My right arm.”

[Timer Reading: 7 Days, 7 Hours, 59 Minutes, 59 Seconds]

His timeline was too long. He’d set it for the longest possible time, but it seemed more likely that his timeline was much shorter.

[Adjusting Timer]

[Timer Reading: 3 Days, 7 Hours, 59 Minutes, 56 Seconds]

Connor looked up into Josh’s sympathetic face and frowned. He didn’t trust his voice, but he managed to speak softly when he admitted, “I’m scared.”

Josh frowned sadly and put his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Let me help you up.” He also spoke softly, but with only a fraction of the fear in Connor’s voice.

Together, they got Connor on his feet, but he had trouble moving properly to get around even afterward. His hip was glitchy, but after a moment it reregistered and seemed unaffected by the virus. It was just a matter of time, though.

“Connor. Let us help. We can buy you new parts. We can –“ He stopped, biting his lip. Connor had already dismissed that line of help, and Josh knew it. “How long do you have?”

“Most likely no more than three and a half days.” Though he kept his voice calm and analytical, he couldn’t raise his voice. It wasn’t the virus, though. No, it was fear that kept him quiet.

Silence spread through the office. Finality settled through Connor’s components like the seep of oil. It was unlikely he would live through this. He’d always known it, but every malfunctioning part brought the truth into clearer focus. He was going to die in the next several days.

“Let me help,” Josh insisted. “Markus can spare me. I’ll walk with you. I’ll help you get around.” When Connor started shaking his head, the darker android frowned. “Connor, you can’t even call for help! If I hadn’t come to see you, who knows how long you would’ve been stuck on the floor. You won’t let us spend money on you, so just let me support you.”

Turning his head away, Connor silently disagreed. He wanted the help. Honestly, he did. But he hated feeling like a burden. “What did you come to see me for, Josh?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

The other android groaned in frustration. He turned away from Connor momentarily, collecting himself, before he sighed and returned to Connor’s side. “Fine. Have it your way. Die like a martyr.” He put a hand on his head in exasperation. “I came to get you because Markus wanted to know if any progress had been made on the virus case and you can’t email.”

Nodding, Connor put a hand on his desk to support himself. “The lieutenant texted me just as I returned to the office. They have a suspect. By tomorrow they should have the warrants to begin their search for evidence.”

“Then an antivirus might not be far off.” Josh grabbed Connor by both shoulders, forcing command of his attention. “You hold on, Connor. There’s still hope. This Lieutenant Anderson – he’s gotta be, like, your soul mate, right? North told me. So he’s gotta be working hard to find that antivirus. He’s gonna succeed. You’re going to be alright.”

He said the last part with such intense conviction that Connor had no choice but to agree with him. Maybe he was being too fatalistic. Josh was probably right. Hank still had time to find evidence, to find the source code of the virus and get someone to construct the cure. Four days. He still had time.

Besides that, Connor should be focusing on tomorrow morning. Cole’s bus would get in around eight in the morning. Nine if there were delays. Tomorrow he got to reunite a father and a son. Instead of focusing on his own demise, he should be putting energy into that happy moment.

There was still hope in that moment, and Connor didn’t want to be completely hopeless just yet.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56596603)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56789854)


	8. Chapter 8

“The bus got a flat tire,” Cole said. “They’re fixing it right now, but they promise we’ll be in by nine. Is that okay?”

‘That is perfect.’ Connor smiled, though Cole couldn’t see it. The train had arrived perfectly on schedule, and the bus had left on schedule too. This one hiccup would not be a problem. ‘When you get in, find an inner city bus or take a taxi. I’ll send you the address to come to. Your father will be getting out of a meeting around ten at the community center, and I know seeing you would be a welcome surprise.’

“Oh, good! I was hoping to surprise him, but I thought you’d probably told him I was coming already.” There was a smile in Cole’s voice that just made Connor smile more.

‘I was considering giving him a hint this morning, but we haven’t seen each other today.’ Connor hesitated a moment, his LED spinning with indecision, before he asked, ‘Would you like me to meet you there as well?’

The response was immediate. “Of course! Dummy! You gotta be there! I wouldn’t even be here if not for you!”

Warmth spread out from Connor’s thirium pump. ‘Then I’ll be there when you get to the community center.’ And he quickly texted the address to Cole’s phone.

“Promise?” the twelve-year-old asked.

‘I promise.’ Connor blinked and brought up the time. ‘I’ll see you in a few hours. Stay safe.’

“See ya,” Cole said, and he sounded almost as excited to meet Connor as he should be to see his father.

When the call disconnected, Connor was left staring at the blank walls of his office. Markus had not assigned him anything official since discovering his illness. His infection risk was too great to allow him access to company terminals. Connor understood, but it made his time go by so slowly.

As he’d expected the previous night, Connor could no longer move his right arm at all. His left hip still glitched in and out from time to time, but he could stand on his own and he could even manage walking ninety percent of the time. Perhaps a less advanced model would be unable to hide their condition so well, but Connor was just better than most models. Yet no amount of skill could alter the truth. He kept his clothes on and his sleeves long, but he also knew that his synthskin and chassis were undoubtedly gray.

Despite the advanced state of his condition, Connor was feeling good. He couldn’t guarantee the mood would stay beyond Cole’s arrival, but the excitement of meeting in person, of seeing the look on Hank’s face, was too great to let Connor focus on his own bleak future.

Connor pushed a button on his desk. Josh had installed it the previous evening after discovering Connor on the floor. Connor was under orders to stay at his desk unless absolutely necessary, because if his other leg gave out he’d have no way to reach the button. The little green dot was simplistic, but it did the job. All the way down the hall, Josh was alerted to Connor in need, and it took him very little time to appear in Connor’s doorway.

“You need something?” Josh asked, leaning into the office.

“Can you take me to the downtown community center?” Connor asked. He couldn’t walk that far on his own, and he couldn’t interface with the self-driving cabs. The bus would take a lifetime just because of the routes taken.

“Yeah, of course.” Josh nodded and moved across the room to help Connor up, but Connor was on his feet before Josh could get to him.

“Thank you.” He grabbed a pair of gloves from his desk to hide his gray hand, lifted his jacket off the hook by the door, and then slowly walked toward the elevators. “I just need the ride. Once we arrive, you needn’t stay.”

Josh snorted. “And how exactly do you plan on getting back if you can’t call your own taxi?” He shook his head. “Nah. If you need some time alone, I’ll just wander the area for a bit. But I’m not just leaving you in the middle of downtown.”

That felt good. Connor almost pressed a hand over his thirium pump. “Thank you, Josh.”

The dark skinned android shrugged noncommittally as the elevator arrived. “You’re our family here at Jericho. It’s the least I can do for you. Pretty much literally, but you won’t let me do anything more.”

“I still appreciate your effort, and your respect for my boundaries and wishes.” Connor did reach up and touch his chest then, as the doors shut and they began to descend. His pump hummed under the skin. “I know this is hard for all of you and not just myself. I don’t mean for it to seem like I’m giving up or refusing help. I simply don’t want –“

“You don’t want us wasting our money,” Josh finished, or was it interrupted? “Yeah, I know. I understand it, but that doesn’t mean I like it. If it kept you alive, I’m sure none of us would care. But I guess that’s not our decision to make. And besides, it won’t matter once your soul mate finds the cure.”

The sudden mention of Hank actually made Connor’s lip twitch up. “Well. I certainly hope so,” he said and tapped his pump thoughtfully.

\--- --- ---

Connor was waiting outside the room when Hank stepped out of his sobriety meeting at exactly ten o’clock. The lieutenant was obviously very punctual about getting out of the room, and the thought almost made Connor laugh.

Others were leaving too, but Connor only had eyes for Hank. He would have waved, but his instinct was to raise his right hand for that gesture, and nothing moved when he tried it. Anyway, Hank didn’t require the wave. He headed straight for Connor the moment he spotted him.

“Hey, Connor,” he greeted casually. “What are you doin’ here?”

Connor shrugged with one arm. “I’m meeting someone here soon. How are you? How’s the case?” Cole’s last text said he was on the city bus, but the bus system still had the chance of being late. Connor didn’t want to tip his hand too soon.

Hank rolled his shoulders back and motioned for Connor to accompany him outside. “Got an interview with the big dude himself, Elijah Kamski, this afternoon. Hoping he can help us out with the anti-virus.”

The name sent a shock through Connor, momentarily rendering him speechless. Hank was meeting with Elijah Kamski. A dozen worst case scenarios ran through his mind before he managed to calm himself. It was just an interview, and Hank was not an advanced android that Elijah had an unhealthy obsession with. He would be fine.

When he’d calmed down, he noticed Hank was holding the door open to the outside.

“Be careful with Kamski,” Connor warned, face and voice serious. “He’s good at manipulation. And he didn’t get where he is today by playing nice.”

“That’s strangely cryptic,” Hank noted, waiting for Connor to exit first before following him outside. Connor almost offered an explanation, but Hank wasn’t waiting for one. “Anyway,” he said as they stepped into the chilly autumn sunshine. “Something pretty crazy happened last night. I got a call from my ex.”

Connor spun around on the sidewalk, eyes wide. “Melissa called you?” She’d noticed Cole was missing. How long had it taken her to notice? Was she coming to take Cole away again?

Hank nodded and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Yeah. She says Cole’s run away and she thinks he’s coming to Detroit. But don’t get too excited. She’s got literally no proof. She just wanted to blame me for him leaving.”

Connor calmed. Melissa was not taking Cole away. But hold on. Hank did not seem as invigorated by the information as Connor had hoped for.

He tilted his head to the side. “And why should I not get excited? He’s taking a train across the country to see you. Aren’t _you_ excited?”

A curious look overtook Hank’s brow, and Connor realized he’d revealed more than he should know. He feigned innocence and waited while Hank struggled between suspicious frowning and a little excited smile.

“I mean… I mean of course I am, if it’s true,” he admitted. “But Connor, he’s twelve. He’s got no money. How the fuck would he get here?”

Okay, Connor was trying to play innocent, but he was also more than a little proud of himself. He gave Hank a little wink, just like when they met. “Maybe he’s got a little help.”

Hank snorted and gave a crooked smile. “Connor, as much as I want to see my son, it’s hella unlikely he’s gonna make it to Detroit. I’m not getting my hopes up on some wild fantasy.”

“Statistically speaking, there is always a chance for unlikely events to take place,” Connor said, knowing already that Cole’s arrival was imminent. It was not an unlikely event when he’d orchestrated it. The excitement was bubbling inside him to the point that he almost couldn’t contain it.

“Yeah, well –”

The conversation was interrupted by an excited cry from across the street. The two men turned to see what was happening and saw twelve-year-old Cole Anderson standing by the bus stop and the city bus he’d just departed. A grin was splitting his face and it infected Connor. Cole had made it. He’d found his way home.

Beside Connor, Hank was staring in disbelief. It occurred to Connor that Hank hadn’t seen his son in six years. Cole probably looked quite different from six to twelve.

“That’s –,” Hank tried but lost his voice.

“Dad!” Cole bounced in place, waiting for traffic to clear so he could cross. “Dad!”

“Cole?” Hank was breathless, but his lips kept tugging up. His mind hadn’t accepted it yet, but he soon would. His son was there, and the longer he stared the larger his smile became.

Connor’s grin was wide for once. Hank was happy. Bringing Cole to Detroit had been the right choice. Seeing the smiles on both their faces proved that. His thirium pump hummed with warmth. Across the street, the bus was still letting off passengers, but traffic lightened up. Cole skipped out in front of the stopped bus, antsy to cross the whole street.

Time moved in slow motion. Cole’s muscles braced to push him out into the street. A truck was hidden by the stopped bus but racing down the street at 45 mph. Legally the truck should slow down because of the bus, but it wasn’t. The momentum of the truck would prevent it from stopping in time. There was an 80% likelihood of the truck colliding with Cole, resulting in a 23% survival rate for the boy. The truck would miss Cole only if the driver veered and Cole jumped back – 15% chance – or if Cole managed to be stopped in time before he got too far into the street and the truck driver swerved – 5% chance.

Connor rushed the traffic despite his bum leg. A car barely missed him going in the opposite direction.

“Connor!” Hank shouted in fear. “Fuck!”

On the other side of the busy street, Cole had stepped out into the path of the truck, but he hesitated when he saw Connor dodge the car. The truck sped on, not heeding the new obstacle. The truck was not in auto mode, and the driver was distracted. Shit.

Behind him, Hank noticed what Connor had and cursed. “Cole! Go back!”

But it was too late. The truck’s brakes screeched with no room to stop and the front end veered away, but it would still hit Cole. Connor’s body collided with the boy as he shoved him forcibly back the way he’d come. The truck clipped Connor’s right arm and spun him, and he flipped around Cole before they were both on their backs on the asphalt in front of the bus.

[Error. System Malfunction]

[Error. Right Audio Unit Dislodged.]

[System Warning]

[Stress Level 80%.]

[Error.]

His right arm was still useless, so Connor jerkily reached up with his left to adjust his dislodged audio unit. As soon as it reconnected, a wave of sound fell over him. People were shouting. Someone was calling for an ambulance. The truck driver was running over, screaming.

“Jesus! What the fuck!? Are you okay, kid?!”

And Cole. Connor’s eyes readjusted and he saw and heard Cole over him.

“C-Connor?” he asked, eyes darting all over Connor’s face and body. “You’re Connor, right? Oh my god. Dad!”

And there was Hank. He slid down beside his son and stared in horror over Connor.

“Jesus, Connor! What were you thinking?!” He went to touch Connor’s chest but hesitated. Connor wished he wouldn’t. He didn’t know how long he had before he wouldn’t be able to feel that anymore and he wanted to feel Hank.

“I’m fine,” Connor assured, pushing himself up with his good arm.

“The fuck you are!” Hank cursed. “Your right arm is missing!”

Connor looked down and saw Hank was right. His entire arm had been ripped off in the crash, but Connor’s sensors hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t been able to access his arm in hours. The exposed wires sparked and glared up at Connor as though it was his fault.

Twenty feet away, the truck driver was lifting Connor’s destroyed arm off the asphalt like it was bloody roadkill. He held it away from himself and scrunched his face up in disgust. Then he began hurrying it over to the group.

“It’s okay. I can’t feel it,” Connor said. The driver dropped the arm beside him without any concern for how it landed.

“Jesus fuck, bot. Don’t jump in front of cars. Damn it.” The man turned away from the sight of Connor’s thirium leaking shoulder.

Hank rose to his feet in a rage. “The fuck do you think you’re saying, asshole?!” He roared and grabbed the man, spinning him around to see the damage he’d caused. “You nearly hit my son, you fucker! If it wasn’t for this android, you’d have killed him! Show some fucking nerve and take some god damned responsibility!”

The driver looked wildly between Connor and Cole, and stammered as he tried to come up with any kind of excuse. Hank shoved him back and pulled out his badge.

“Detroit PD. Make sure this cocksucker doesn’t leave,” he said to the stunned bus patrons. A few people shifted around behind the truck driver to cut off his escape back to his vehicle, and Hank ripped out his phone to call in the accident.

While he shouted at the phone, Connor lifted his bum arm into his lap. Before the virus, he’d done so much to keep his body in perfect condition, and now he’d lost his arm. Road burn and gravel marred the exposed gray polyalloy frame. His working hand, covered in synthskin, looked like it belonged to a completely different species.

A small, human hand set itself over his. “Are you okay?” Cole’s voice was uneasy. “You– You’re gonna be okay, right?”

Connor looked up at the young boy and tried to smile reassuringly. “Yeah. It’s just an arm. I can get a new one from Cyberlife.”

Strong hands reached under Connor’s fractured armpit and his functioning arm and hoisted him to his feet. The bum arm clattered back to the street, but Cole retrieved it as he stood too.

“The fuck you mean ‘it’s just an arm’?” Hank growled under his breath. A cop car was already pulling onto the street and heading their way. Hank snatched the arm from his son and held it up accusingly. “It’s fucking gray, Connor.”

Connor tried to hold Hank’s gaze, tried to pretend that he wasn’t as nervous about the color as Hank clearly was. But when Cole started talking, Connor’s resolve crumbled and he averted his eyes.

“Yeah, I thought android parts were white.” Cole poked the arm once but then his dad moved it out of reach.

“That’s because they are,” Hank said. Many of the bus patrons were still watching them, rubbernecking to see the damage done. The cop car pulled up to the curb and Officer Chris Miller stepped out. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

Hank stormed off, detached arm still tight in his grip. Connor felt internally cold, like Hank had taken his heating unit with him instead of his arm. He’d considered telling Hank of his condition today, though not until long after Hank and Cole had time to get reacquainted, but circumstances moved up the timeline. Now it seemed Hank would hold the secret against him, and Connor missed their relationship already.

In Hank’s absence, Cole slipped his small hand into Connor’s. “Dad’s pretty mad, but… I think we just scared him,” he murmured.

Connor looked down at him and squeezed his hand. “Yes. I was scared too.” Then he knelt in front of the twelve-year-old. Holograms and videos were one thing, but to see Cole in person was another joy entirely. Connor detached their hands long enough to run his fingers through Cole’s hair, knocking out some gravel. “Are you hurt? Did you skin your elbow or hit your head?”

Cole shook his head quickly. “N-No. I’m fine. My backpack softened the blow.” He smiled a little, nervous. “You saved my life.”

“Of course.” Connor took up the kid’s hand again. “I care about you, Cole. I couldn’t just watch you get hurt.”

“Well I care about you too, and you got hurt anyway,” Cole countered and pouted. “You can’t take all the hero credit. Now I gotta do something to repay you. So get fixed, ‘cause I need time to figure something out. Okay?”

“Okay.” Connor smiled, almost laughed. Then he was suddenly accosted by pre-teen arms as Cole wrapped him in a tight hug. After a moment of surprised hesitation, Connor wrapped his good arm around the boy. “I’m happy to see you,” he murmured.

“It’s good to see you too,” Cole murmured back. “Almost as good as it was to see my dad.”

[Stress Level 20%]

[Condition Stable]

[No Major Errors]

Everything was warm. Everything was good for that moment in time. Cole was there and safe. Hank was almost sober. The only downside was the time clock hanging over Connor’s head like a noose. He wouldn’t have this moment for long, so he squeezed Cole a little tighter and enjoyed it while he could.

Soon Hank was back and he grunted for the two to follow him. Connor had to use Cole’s shoulder as support to push himself back to his feet. Then they carefully crossed the street back toward the community center, and Hank led them inside the quiet building. They ducked into the first empty room Hank could find, and then he locked the door behind them.

“Okay, now explain this,” he said, holding up the arm. “How long has it been?”

Connor stared at the gray polyalloy. It looked worse now that it was held up in the light. “Eight days.”

“Jesus.” Hank looked in horror down at the arm, and then chucked it at the nearby corner of the room. “Fuck.”

“What?” Cole held the straps of his backpack tightly. “What’s that mean?”

Hank turned away from them, stuck his hand up in his bangs and cursed again. He took a deep breath but made no motion to explain anything. This was hurting him, as much as Connor had tried to shield him from the truth so that it wouldn’t.

“The android virus,” Connor began, and Cole immediately grabbed for Connor’s remaining hand. “It shuts down android biocomponents over time and turns the white polyalloy gray once it’s completely destroyed a component. It’s… like a rot. The virus infiltrates all components simultaneously but takes time to overcome security and firewalls. Less important components go first as the android’s body diverts power and resources to defending vital components. The color change is the final stage of the virus.”

Cole’s grip tightened. “Why not just replace the bad components? Can’t we just get you a new working arm?”

“We can, and we will. But the virus is quick and mutating. It would be an expensive, losing battle to keep replacing all the dying components, and eventually the virus would still win. The only hope is an antivirus,” Connor explained. He didn’t know how he was managing to sound so calm. Even his stress level was lower than expected. Perhaps he managed it for Cole’s sake.

“So… So where’s the antivirus?” Cole asked, scared eyes drifting to the leaking, gray arm in the corner.

“There fucking isn’t one!” Hank snapped, hand still in his bangs, covering his eyes. His back was tense and unrelenting. Connor’s calm tone was doing nothing for him. “It’s my job to find the antivirus and we haven’t done that yet! We only just got a suspect yesterday… There isn’t a fucking antivirus, and it could be weeks before we get someone to figure one out.”

“Okay. So solve the case and fix Connor,” Cole said with all the determination a child could muster. “You’re a great detective, Dad. You can solve anything. What’s the problem?”

“The problem?” Hank spun around, his face blotchy and red. He motioned angrily at Connor, who looked away in shame. “The problem is that the virus will have fuckin killed him long before I can solve it. He’s been infected for over a week, and the window from infection to total system failure is – is –!”

He cursed and started pacing, rubbing a hand over his face. Connor frowned and closed his eyes. He’d managed to ruin this joyous moment. The image he’d painted would never come to pass now, not the way it should have.

He squeezed Cole’s hand, drawing the boy’s attention off his anxious father. “One to two weeks,” he finished for Hank. “Based on the speed of my symptoms, my countdown clock gives me a maximum of two days, twenty hours, and ten minutes before a catastrophic system failure. With a margin of error of four hours either way.”

“Fuck.” Hank paced all the way to the dead arm, seemed to debate kicking it into the wall, and then paced back past his son and Connor without looking at them.

Cole grabbed at Connor’s left arm. “Wha-? No. No, that can’t be right. You– You can’t be dying. I came all this way to meet you and see my dad, and you can’t just die like that.” Tears slid down his young cheeks, breaking Connor’s heart, and Connor knelt down to wipe them away. Cole leaned down and burrowed into Connor’s chest. “Dad’s gonna find the anti-virus. You’ll see. He’s gonna – He’s gonna save you.”

Hank cursed softly and stopped moving. It sounded like he might start crying too, but he was too far away to read. Connor pet Cole’s hair and frowned.

“I certainly hope so,” Connor murmured. “But I won’t be mad if he doesn’t. He’s been working very hard for weeks. He’s doing the best he can, and I’m enjoying the time I have left by helping the two of you.”

Cole shook his head. “You need to help yourself,” he scolded wetly. “No one… No one dies without meeting their soul mate, right? And you haven’t met yours. So you can’t die. We’re gonna fix you, and you’re gonna meet your soul mate, and everything will be okay.”

“Okay. You’re right,” Connor agreed, trying to comfort the tears away. He wanted to cry too, but tears wouldn’t help the situation. Tears wouldn’t help Cole or Hank or anybody. He wished he could wrap Cole up in a hug, but the best he could do was hold him with one arm, so he did.

Across the room, Hank started pacing again and muttered to himself. Connor would miss him. Hank was his soul mate. If Connor put his hand palm to palm with Hank’s a mark would appear on both their hands. No one dies without meeting their soul mate. That was true. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Connor was positive he had already met that quota. He just hadn’t verified it yet.

“But enough about me,” Connor said, pulling away. He needed to change the focus or he’d end up really crying. “Go hug your dad. You haven’t seen him in six years.”

Both Anderson’s were surprised by the statement, and Connor knew his condition had completely distracted them from what should have mattered more than anything. Now that it was brought up, they turned to look at each other. Cole stood up slowly, reluctant to fully release Connor, but then the android gently pushed him in Hank’s direction.

“I… Sorry I shouted,” Hank said anxiously.

“It’s okay. I know you were just scared,” Cole said and held his hands behind his back.

Hank took a nervous breath before he started walking back to the other two. When they were close enough, Hank bent over, opened his arms, and gave Cole the embrace he deserved. Father and son held each other close, and Connor felt more complete than he had in a very, very long time. He may have ruined the initial meeting, but he’d still brought them back together.

“God, I can’t believe you’re really here,” Hank said in a breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“I missed you so much,” Cole said, sniffling. “Do you think, since I came all this way, that I could live with you? I wanna live with you.”

“I hope so, little bug.” Hank sniffled too, though he still wasn’t actually crying. He pulled back to look his son in the face and ran his thumb over Cole’s cheekbone. “But I guess ‘little’ doesn’t fit anymore, does it? Damn. Gonna need to get you a new nickname.”

“I don’t care what you call me.” Cole smiled and bounced a little in place. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love _you_ , Cole,” Hank said and they hugged each other again.

[Warning: Heat Levels Rising]

[Applying Coolant]

[Action Cancelled]

Connor pressed his hand to his chest, over his thirium pump. He felt warm all over, but he knew he wasn’t in danger of actually overheating. It was just his heart reacting to the display of affection before him. He didn’t want to lose that feeling, even if his processor disagreed with him. He wanted to enjoy it as long as he could.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56789854)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56918338)


	9. Chapter 9

[Initializing…]

[Stress Level 30%]

[Thirium Drive Operating Above Normal Levels]

[Run Diagnostic?]

[Yes/No?]

[No]

Connor didn’t need a diagnostic to tell him why his thirium was flowing faster than necessary. He was about to let someone he cared about see into his personal space – or lack thereof. One day Hank might step into Connor’s office, see where he spent the majority of his time, but for now it was simply Cole.

Connor had offered to watch over Cole at Jericho while Hank went to interview Elijah Kamski, because Connor would rather die of the ASH virus immediately than allow Elijah Kamski anywhere near Cole. Also Cole and Connor would be distractions if they rode along for the interview, and Connor refused to be an impediment to the case. His life depended on Kamski’s cooperation.

It hadn’t been hard to convince Josh to let Cole come back to Jericho. It wasn’t like humans were forbidden or anything, and Josh was always willing to extend olive branches even in situations where they were unlikely to help. Now Hank was on his way to CyberLife and Connor was about to reveal just how simple and frankly pathetic his life was. Nothing like showing off your office to someone you cared about to make you really feel how vacant it was.

He put his hand on the door handle for his office, took a moment to close his eyes and prepare himself, and then pushed inside. The office was as blank and bleak as it always had been – no personalization or homey touches. Just the two chairs on either side of his desk, a plastic plant in one corner that Markus had insisted upon, and Connor’s charging station.

“Welcome to my office,” Connor said, moving aside so Cole could enter first. “I apologize that it’s not more interesting. Unfortunately it’s just an office.”

Cole walked in and narrowed his eyes at the emptiness. He frowned at the windows facing the construction outside. “But I thought this was where you lived. Where’s all your stuff?”

“I don’t have any stuff,” Connor admitted. “I have some clothing in the closet over there, but this is an office. It would be wrong to fill it with items that belong in a house.”

Cole snorted and stepped up to Connor’s desk. He pushed around a stapler. “It’s wrong to have nothing at all in here too, you know. You gotta have _something_ of your own. I mean, I lived in a house where I was told we didn’t have the money for stuff and I still had a couple toys. I even brought my favorite one with me. It’s a dragon, but we don’t have to bring it out or anything. It’s kinda a kid’s toy. Actually, forget I said anything.”

He was blushing. Connor smiled warmly. “It’s perfectly normal for young men to retain an attachment to childhood favorites.”

Cole frowned. “Huh?” He stopped playing with the stapler and turned around to face Connor. When he did, his mouth fell open slightly.

“I’m saying it’s okay for you to still enjoy your toys.” Connor’s LED spun yellow as he took in Cole’s continued expression. “What’s wrong?”

Lamely, Cole motioned toward Connor. No, behind him. Connor turned, half shutting the door to the office as he did. His own eyes widened, his LED flashing briefly to a shocked red before returning to yellow. His painting, the one of Hank and Cole meeting, was hanging on the wall behind the door.

For a moment he wondered how it had gotten there, but he quickly rationalized that Markus must have brought it over and hung it for him. He could hear the dark android even now, telling Connor that he needed a little color in this pale office to give it some life. In reality, he probably wanted to remind Connor about what he had to live for, all he had to lose, give him a reason to keep fighting.

“That looks kinda like me,” Cole surmised, walking over to the painting. Beside him, Connor was speechless. “And… And that could be dad. Connor, where’d you get this?”

Someone other than Connor answered, sliding into the office as gracefully as a revolution leader should. Markus smiled righteously. “He painted it,” he said, coming to stand just behind Connor. “It’s pretty good, right?”

Now it was Cole’s turn to be speechless. He stood right in front of the painting, all but touching it with his small hands. Connor watched him, his thirium drive humming. What thoughts were going through that little boy’s brain? He found he was desperate to know and also desperate not to know.

“Connor’s been looking forward to the day you came to Detroit for awhile,” Markus continued, placing his hand gently on Connor’s good shoulder. “He cares about you and your father a lot, and he wanted you both to be happy.”

A soft sound came from Cole, and Connor realized with some alarm that it was a sniffle. Cole was trying not to cry. The young boy put his hand on the wall by the painting, his eyes still drinking in the details.

“I… This is exactly what I dreamed,” he murmured, trying to hide the thickness of his voice. Finally he turned back to Connor, not three feet away, and hugged him. “I’m sorry I ruined everything,” he said, voice shaky. “If – If I hadn’t walked in front of that truck, you – you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and dad wouldn’t have gotten mad and I’m sorry, Connor!”

Beside them, Markus didn’t look overly alarmed. Josh must have explained Connor’s missing arm. The Jericho leader took a step back, giving them some room, and Connor put his hand in Cole’s mussed up hair.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Cole. You were excited. We all were." He dragged his fingers through the boy's hair. "I'm very happy you're here."

It took a moment for Cole to calm down, to take Connor's words to heart. He loosened his hold on Connor but did not release him. Connor would be happy to stay there all day except a warning popped up that his hip was malfunctioning again, as well as the knee of his good leg. Well, so much for having a 'good' leg.

"Markus, can you bring your chessboard in here?" Connor asked. "And then I… ” It still hurt his pride a bit to admit he couldn’t get up or move around the way he used to, but with barely more than two days left, he really didn’t have time for pride. “Please assist me with the chairs?"

Before Markus could agree, Cole pulled away and rushed to a chair. "I'll move the chairs! I can do it!" Then he started scooting the chair to the side. When it was in place, he raced around to grab Connor’s desk chair and started grunting as he dragged it out too.

Markus smiled even before Connor. “I’ll get the board,” he said. He turned his grin on Connor and it turned soft. “It’s great to see you like this. You really have no idea. I mean, you’re in a sorry state with the virus and your arm, but to have company that genuinely wants to be with you and for you to also love being around them – I’m happy for you. I just hope it lasts for more than two days.”

“As do I,” Connor agreed. Markus left and Connor returned to watching Cole meticulously try to space the chairs.

[Error]

[Components #H011 through #H014 Unresponsive]

His hip. He was left with literally no leg to stand on.

[System Warning]

[Stress Level 60%]

“Cole,” Connor called gently, trying to hide his concern. The boy looked over eagerly and Connor beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. “Will you help me get to the chair?”

\--- --- ---

[Timer Reading: Two days, Seventeen hours, 43 minutes, 49 seconds]

Connor was lounging in his office chair when the call came in. He heard the phone chiming, but as it wasn’t his phone, he didn’t rouse for it. He’d been in a semi-stasis for half an hour despite his best efforts. He and Cole had played several rounds of chess before a strange lethargy had overcome Connor. He’d never experienced true fatigue before, but he imagined this must be at least similar. Even a phone ringing did not pull him out of it.

“Hello?” Cole asked, answering the cell phone Connor had given him. Connor could see him, because his eyes were still open, but he felt no need to move. “Dad! Hello!” Cole smiled.

Cole looked younger when he smiled. Years of living in a hushed and secluded environment had made him heavy with stress, but simply being in Detroit was raising his spirits. Connor was glad to have been a part of that transition, and he hoped it was able to continue.

“Oh.” Cole frowned a little and tugged nervously on his shirt hem. “He, uh, he’s alive… No, I mean it.” He glanced over at Connor, brow tight. “He said he couldn’t stand up anymore after we got back to his office. Then like half an hour ago, he said he was tired. Like, I’ve never heard an android say that before. But he’s sort of zoned out. Like his eyes are open, but he stopped talking. I’ve just been playing games on this phone and letting him rest or whatever.”

The boy glanced around the room. He squinted into the corner before his eyebrows went up.

“Oh! Yeah, I think I see one of those things.” He swung his legs down from where he’d thrown them over the arm of his chair and stood up. His eyes darted between Connor and the corner of the room multiple times before he spoke again. “Uh. I think I’m gonna need to go get Mr. Josh or Mr. Markus to help me.” He hesitated, listening to his father, and then pouted. “He’s heavy! I’m only twelve, Dad! I’m not Superman!” After another pause he added, “Okay, fine. I forgive you.”

Connor imagined the teasing from Hank’s point of view and wished he could listen it, hack the signal and hear the laughter in Hank’s voice. But that component wasn’t responding anymore. Or maybe it was. Connor couldn’t bring himself to try running any diagnostics or bring up any notifications. He didn’t know what was still working, because he was too tired to try anything.

He must have ‘zoned out’ for a good while, but quite suddenly he became aware of the fact that Cole was no longer in the room. He didn’t remember the phone call ending or Cole walking out, but Connor was definitely alone. He could tell from the silence.

If he could rouse himself, perhaps he could get some parts of his legs to work or at least push himself up to page Josh from the desk. But everything felt like too much effort. He wanted to move, to get up, to do something, but at the same time he didn’t want to move at all. He wanted to shut his eyes and stop receiving new input and just go into stasis for a long time.

Someone grabbed him under his good arm and hoisted him from the chair. It was Markus. Once again, Connor hadn’t noticed him enter. He tried to say Markus’ name, but only a rough hum escaped him, like he couldn’t move past the ‘m’.

“It’s okay, Connor,” Markus assured, moving Connor toward the corner Cole had been looking at. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

Connor had no choice but to let himself be manhandled. Markus shifted him this way and that, like dealing with an overly large puppet instead of a living being. Then something clicked and Connor was being held up around the waist without Markus’ help. Markus knelt in front of Connor, out of the tired android’s eyesight, but Connor was too out of it to wonder why. He heard more clicks but felt nothing. With every click, Markus moved further up Connor’s body, and then suddenly Connor felt a snap on the back of his neck.

It took a moment, but the fatigue began to fade. It rushed out of Connor’s body and left him alert and confused. He glanced down at himself, taking stock. He was standing on his charging pad. An assistance bar had been raised up to hold him around the waist, and a cord travelled from the base all the way up and behind Connor. Now that he was aware of himself, he knew the cord was plugged into his neck. His dead legs must have refused to pass on the charge, and Markus had tried every possible port until he got to one that worked.

Markus. The dark android was standing in front of him, a strained smile on his face. Slightly behind him, Cole shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

“Markus,” Connor began. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think the virus hit your battery.” Markus rubbed his hands together, his own sign of nerves. “I don’t think you can leave your charging pad until we find the anti-virus.” He glanced back at Cole. “Can you pull his chair over here? I’ll move the cord so he can sit down, at least.”

Cole hopped to his task immediately, clearly desperate to be useful. Meanwhile Markus bent down again, pulling extra cable out of the base. Normally androids didn’t need the cords, but they were wound up in the base anyway for exactly situations like this. Though androids felt no physical comfort difference between standing and sitting, Connor would feel better emotionally if he was sitting down. It was less awkward that way.

When the chair was close enough, Markus helped Connor sit down. It was much easier than getting him on the charging pad, since he helped out with his arm and as much of the rest of him as he could. Cole hovered nearby, and Connor gave him a small smile to try to calm the boy’s nerves.

“Is he gonna be alright?” Cole asked.

“I think we’ve solved the problem for the moment,” Markus replied. He double checked that the cord was securely imbedded in Connor’s neck and then stood back. “Without the antivirus, I’m afraid it’s all we can do.” He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his own neck and looked down at Cole. “You know… I know you like Connor a lot, but it’s only going to get worse from here. I’m not sure a kid should have to deal with that.”

That was true. Connor frowned in his seat. He was deteriorating. As much as he loved Cole and Hank, without the antivirus he was only going to shut down more and more. It would be like watching a sped up version of cancer in a human. Eventually Connor would be awake but unable to move, and shortly afterward his final processes would cease to function.

“Markus is right.” Connor gave a weak little smile, barely a lift to his lips. “Maybe you could go see Josh or-“

“No!” Cole stamped his foot and then hurried over to snatch up Connor’s hand. “I’m not leaving you alone. I know what that’s like.” He frowned at the floor. “You were my friend when I was lonely, so I’m not gonna just leave you by yourself in this big empty office.”

It was a sweet gesture, and Connor really appreciated it even if he thought it wasn’t a good idea. He would still enjoy the company. Markus shared a long look with him before smiling lightly and shrugging. Neither would be able to force the boy to leave, not without feeling extremely guilty, so Cole won this round.

“Alright,” Markus agreed aloud. “You can stay with Connor. But before I leave you two to more games of chess or whatever else you do for fun – Cole, let’s get you something to eat. And then Simon’s just told me a package has arrived at the front desk, and I could really use your help bringing it up.”

The boy squeezed Connor’s hand, and Connor squeezed right back. “I’ll be alright while you eat, Cole. I was going to call your dad anyway.”

At the mention of his father, Cole’s face finally lifted from the floor. He smiled shyly and bounced a little. “Okay. Okay, you call my dad. I’ll give you some alone time for that. Yeah.” He glanced up at Markus. “I was getting… a _little_ hungry. Just a little, though.”

“Right, right,” Markus agreed, nodding and ushering Cole from the room. “I don’t doubt you could have lasted the rest of the day without complaint. But let’s not be extreme. Even androids need a pick me up from time to time.”

“Yeah, but androids can just plug in like Connor or drink a bottle of thirium and be good. Humans have to, like, cook stuff, and that takes a while.”

Cole let himself be led out, continuing to rant about how tough humans had it because they had to eat to live. It was the childish rant of a twelve-year-old, and Connor could have listened to it for an hour without complaint. But he was glad Cole was distracted, because he really did want to call Hank.

Although Hank had just called Cole a short while ago, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be busy with the case and work now. For a moment Connor considered not calling after all, but he quickly shook the idea away like a bad notification.

He closed his eyes and opened his telephone communications. It wasn’t necessary to shut his eyes, but he found he didn’t appear as catatonic or ‘creepy’ to others if he kept his eyes shut, and now it was a habit.

Hank picked up after only three rings, meaning it may have been only one ring on his end.

“Connor? You alright?” he asked, worry in every syllable.

_“I’m okay.”_

“Are you hurt?”

“ _No. I’m okay,”_ Connor assured. _“It appears… the virus has begun its work on my internal battery.”_

“Jesus! You sure you’re gonna make it two more days?” Hank cursed softly. “I just mean… Connor, I don’t have the antivirus yet. Kamski wouldn’t help.”

Ah, Kamski. Connor hadn’t known he could still feel disappointed in that man, but somehow he did. Someone like Elijah Kamski, with all the money and power a person could want, should be held to higher standards. But whatever standards were used, Kamski had still fallen short. The very race he’d helped create was being killed off, and Kamski did nothing to assist the police.

How very… expected.

“ _It’s alright, Hank_ ,” he said, but what was alright? That Kamski didn’t help? Was he saying Hank’s best efforts were enough? That Connor would very well shut down in two days without a cure? Was that alright now?

There was a somber silence between them, neither sure what to say. The case had hit another wall, and Connor’s time was running out. He couldn’t even leave his office at the moment. Hank would have to come to Jericho to see him, but if they had any chance of Connor’s survival, Hank would need to stay at work until they got an antivirus. It was possible, however much they both would prefer it wasn’t, that they would never see each other again.

Connor was making himself sad. He’d need to muster a smile before Cole returned.

On the phone, Hank cleared his throat. “Say… You’ve been infected for eight days, right? But that’s how long we’ve been texting.”

He paused there, making the statement sound more like a question. Connor would say he was impressed, but he wasn’t. This was exactly the kind of critical thinking he expected from Hank. He’d figured out where Connor’s infection had come from. Not wanting to push the blame on Hank, however, Connor kept silent. It seemed that was answer enough.

Hank cursed softly. “Shit, Connor. You could have told me.”

_“I know. But I didn’t want to burden you in the midst of your investigation. I anticipated my processors would put up a better fight, and it would not end up being a problem._ ” He hesitated in his explanation. This was just the convoluted reasoning of an android who’d let pride and a focus on the well-being of others mask his own problem. He should keep it simple. _“I’m sorry.”_

“Shit,” Hank said again. His voice sounded more than a little frenetic when he said, “I mean, you know that we’re… I mean, we’re probably –”

Connor took a deep, unnecessary breath.

_“I know.”_

“You – you know?” Hank asked. Though he cursed, he didn’t sound angry. “The fuck’s that mean?”

_“I’ve never put much thought into marks and my soul or anything of the sort,”_ Connor admitted and heard Hank take a sharp breath in response. “ _Simon often grew exasperated with my disinterest, if I’m honest. So it was particularly noticeable to everyone here when I took interest in you and your situation. After a few days, even someone like me couldn’t pretend not to notice.”_

“Okay, but damn. That means we’ll beat this, right?”

He wanted Connor to give him hope, but Connor could only think of the same thing he’d come to every time soul mates came up in conversation. They were only destined to meet, not to be together. He’d gotten Hank out of his stupor. He’d gotten Cole back. And maybe that’s all he needed to do.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he said, though he didn’t feel it in his heart. “ _You can do this, Hank_.”

[Warning]

[Tear Duct Tank Level at 50%]

When had he started crying?

Over the phone, Hank distractedly said “Fucker” before his voice returned to normal and he said, “Don’t shutdown prematurely on me, Connor. I think I just figured out a way to get a lead. I’ll call you later.”

“ _Goodbye, Hank_ ,” Connor said, only able to keep a steady voice because it was in his head. “ _Good luck.”_

The call ended.

[Tear Duct Tank Level at 30%]

Something snapped against the shoulder joint of his right arm.

[Initializing…]

[Components #A500 thru #A978 Successfully Initialized]

[Reactivating Synthskin]

Connor opened his eyes and looked immediately to where his right hand should be. It was there, resting on the arm of the chair, pale synthskin phasing into place. When his arm looked human and normal, Connor tested movement. He turned his hand over, flexed his fingers, and raised his hand up for a better view.

“It should be the same quality as your old one,” Markus said beside him. “I know you said I shouldn’t spend the money, but I had to. I couldn’t watch you struggling and not do anything to help.”

His right hand with its blank skin stared back at him. If Hank wanted to match before Connor died, at least they had a way to do it now. “I can’t stop,” Connor admitted quietly.

Markus knelt down beside him. “Can’t stop what?”

“Thinking about my death as an absolute.” Connor reached up and wiped at his wet face, but it wasn’t enough to dry anything. “You, Josh, Simon, Cole, and Hank… How is it possible that everyone around me can keep speaking about me as though it’s a certainty that I’ll survive, and yet –“

Markus shook his head and pulled a napkin from some inner pocket of his jacket. As he dried Connor’s face, he said, “I cannot imagine the fear and the pain you must be feeling. To have your own body betray you… We can stay positive because it’s not us experiencing it. It’s logical for you to feel it more acutely than the rest of us.” Face dry, he pocketed the wet napkin and gave Connor a small smile. “But please don’t give up hope, Connor. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.”

“Thank you, Markus.” Connor shut his eyes momentarily to ensure his tear ducts weren’t about to spill their last quarter of liquid. Then he said, “I would be grateful if you would take over being liaison to the DPD from now on.” He held up his hand when Markus made to reply. “Regardless of my own mortality, I cannot get out of this chair right now. If there’s anything Jericho can do to assist, I can no longer access it. I started this case, but it is obvious I cannot complete it, and I have been selfishly keeping it. Please. I would prefer it be you.”

After a short pause full of frowning, Markus finally said, “Of course, Connor. It would be my pleasure.” He closed his eyes, the only sign he was sending any sort of message since Markus wore no LED. “I’ve reached out to Officer Ashby. If there’s anything we can do to assist, we will. We couldn’t engineer an antivirus, and we can’t accuse the murderer, but perhaps our resources can still be of use. The case has developed enough that our assistance now shouldn’t be a problem politically.”

Officially, Jericho helping would be logical, but it would still draw ire from the part of humanity that still rallied against androids. But there were ways to use their computer resources to help without it looking like a direct interference by androids. Imagining the hive of Jericho working to help Hank discover someone besides Kamski who could engineer the antivirus, or find one that already existed, did manage to give Connor some hope, and he flashed a brief, tiny smile at Markus. Markus smiled right back.

Cole burst into the room then, loaded up with tiny bags of snacks to keep him satisfied while he hung out in Connor’s boring office. Thanks to Markus, there were no tears for Cole to be worried about. However, the boy’s eyes instantly noticed the new arm and he cheered.

“It fits! Markus asked me to bring it up, but then when we got back to this floor someone named Simon told me to let Mr. Markus handle it because he needed me to pick out snacks, because apparently they don’t know what kids like to eat. Anyway, I was worried it wouldn’t fit, like when you order shoes off the internet, but it does!” Cole dropped all his snacks in his chair and then rushed behind Connor and opened the closet door.

Markus and Connor shared an amused smile before Connor called out, “What are you doing back there, Cole?”

“Duh. I’m raiding your tiny closet for a new shirt for you,” the boy said, accompanied by the sound of hangers tapping together. “Gotta have you looking good for when my dad comes to get me.”

Connor almost laughed. Oh boy.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56918338)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56985628)


	10. Chapter 10

[Initializing]

[Unable to Locate Biocomponents #C034 thru #F405]

[Catastrophic Biocomponent Failure]

[Locate a CyberLife Repair Center Immediately]

Connor silenced the warnings. He couldn't stop the pop-ups about his different components going offline, but he could at least shut up the Repair Center suggestions.

“So like… you ever think you were making it hard for your soul mate to figure out who you were since you don’t own anything?” Cole asked. He was lounging across the guest chair, his feet dangling over one arm and his head resting on the other. Between them was the chess table, which they had converted into a card table for awhile, but now they weren’t playing anything at all.

“I didn’t used to think much of my soul mate at all,” Connor said. “I saw my lack of possessions as economical.”

“You mean boring.” Cole stretched over the arm of the chair, ending up half upside down. “How’s someone else supposed to know what you like when _you_ don’t even know what you like? I mean, if you’re not out there trying stuff, how would you know you like it?”

“You make an excellent point.” Connor glanced down at the chessboard. “I suppose I was anxious about trying new things. Anxious that I might somehow be a disappointment if I liked too many things, collected too many items.”

“I get that.” Cole flipped back to an upright position. “Uncle Teddy didn’t like my stuff getting in his way. He always got mad and said I had too many toys. So I learned to play in a tiny space, out of the way. And I started playing on the computer so I couldn’t leave stuff lying around.” He frowned and drummed on his knees. “But I guess… that’s how I learned that I love writing. So it’s not all bad.”

At least Cole could see a bright side. Connor had taken a long time to see any kind of bright side to his own experiences, and it mostly amounted to ‘I found Jericho.’ Now it stretched into ‘I met Hank’ and ‘I met Cole’. But Cole had already found the positivity in his situation.

“Anyway, once dad finds that antivirus, we’re gonna need to expose you to all kinds of stuff. Like theme parks and the aquarium and the beach and paintball and-“

Connor chuckled softly. “Are these experiences you believe I need, or are these things that _you_ would like to do?” The blush on Cole’s face was answer enough. “That’s alright. I know that I have missed out on a lot. If I get more time, perhaps we could arrange for us both to fulfill some bucket list items.”

The blush faded from Cole’s face and he frowned down at his feet. “You shouldn’t talk like that. I mean, I know things look bad, but… It makes me feel like you’re going to leave. And I’d miss you if you went away.”

So Connor was failing to hide his grim outlook. Guilt clawed its way into his heart. He had meant to stay positive around Cole, to try and keep him hopeful even though Connor wasn’t very sure at all. But Connor’s attitude, or perhaps his physical state, had gotten to Cole anyway. The atmosphere in the room slid into melancholy as Connor tried to think of a way to apologize.

Wiggling his toes, Cole bent toward his knees and murmured, “I miss my mom.”

It was so similar to how Cole used to talk about his dad that for a moment Connor worried the boy was having second thoughts. One of the things he was proud of, that made it okay that he was dying, was the fact that Connor had brought Cole back to Hank. If Cole changed his mind, it would nullify all the good Connor felt he had done.

“I… I don’t mean just right now,” Cole clarified, barely glancing up. “Like, I know I ran away so I probably don’t have a right to say things, but… I mean, I miss her. For the last couple of years. She… Things have been different since we moved in with Uncle Teddy. She’s not happy anymore, and I’m worried it’s something I did.”

Connor couldn’t stand, but he leaned forward as far as he could to be closer. “No, Cole.”

The boy shook his head. “She stays out of the house all the time, and when she does come home she tries to be nice, but I can tell she’s thinking about being somewhere else… you know? And I know she blames dad for her not having a soul mate. She said we moved to California so that dad wouldn’t bug us, so that she could find her soul mate. Because a soul mate wouldn’t want to get to know her if a cop was hanging around, I guess. But doesn’t that also mean she blames me? Because if she didn’t have me, she wouldn’t have had to run away at all, because she coulda just broken up with dad. And she wouldn’t have to worry about some potential soul mate finding out about me. She would’ve been happier, right? So it’s also kinda my fault.”

“It’s not.” Connor’s hand curled into a light fist in his frustration. How could he undo the last six years of stress and sadness that was weighing on this young boy’s shoulders? He was no therapist. “It’s not your fault. Even if she did blame you, and we have no evidence of that, it still wouldn’t be your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

Tears leaked out of Cole’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away with his sleeve. “Maybe, but… Even if she blames me, I still miss her. We used to have fun together. When… When it was the three of us, I thought we were happy. And I miss her being happy. So… So if Mom needs me to leave so she can find her soul mate, so she can be happy, then I will. And when Dad matches and then Mom matches, then maybe we can all get together sometime… and play like we used to.”

Androids did not grow up like humans. They did not experience childhood, whether as a reality or as a hypothetical. They were activated with knowledge already downloaded and had access to the entirety of the world’s understanding if needed. Sure, they had to learn to adapt to the world, but some of that too was preprogrammed in them. In many ways, it was cheating the system.

However, in that moment, Connor felt such sympathy for Cole’s dream. Cole missed the happiness of youth, and Connor missed it for him too. Although he had wanted to restore Hank’s happiness by returning Cole, and he’d wanted to make Cole smile by helping him get to Detroit, Connor had to admit that he hadn’t given much thought to Melissa Hendricks at all. Would losing Cole really make her happy? Did she also miss those early years spent with Hank and Cole? Had Connor simply made things worse for her? Guilt and sympathy washed over him.

“Cole,” he said softly, drawing the crying boy’s eye. Connor opened his arms wide, asking Cole to come closer without saying anything.

The boy slipped from his own chair and came over, then he bent over and gave Connor a hug they both needed. After a short moment, Connor tugged Cole over and into his lap. A human might complain about the weight, but it didn’t bother Connor. For one thing, he was made of stronger stuff than human skin and bones. For another, his legs were already dead, so it didn’t matter either way. He held Cole close while the boy buried into his collarbone.

“I’m sure your mother loves you,” Connor murmured. “And if you miss her, you can always give her a call. I’m fairly certain she would appreciate that.”

“She’ll be so mad,” Cole mumbled into Connor’s collar. “I’ll… I’ll call her in a few days. Maybe she’ll be calmer then.”

[Error]

[Synthskin System Malfunction]

[Unable to Identify Synthskin System]

A tingle ran over Connor’s body, like a sudden ghostly chill coming between him and Cole. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, but Cole didn’t even shift. What would Cole think when he pulled back and saw all of Connor’s white polyalloy on display? How much would be turning ash gray already?

“I’m sorry,” Connor murmured.

“For what?” And Cole pulled away to face him. Connor watched his eyes go wide and then his hands were grabbing tight to Connor’s rounded face. “Oh my god! This isn’t good, right?”

Connor blinked, and something was wrong about it. “No, I don’t think so,” he said – the understatement of the year. “You don’t… mind?” Cole was turning Connor’s head side to side, like he’d be able to see a physical problem to fix. But he wasn’t freaking out in distaste.

“Mind what? Your skin?” Cole flicked his finger against Connor’s chin and winced slightly when he collided with the metal. “Don’t be a dummy. You’re an android. What did you think I thought was under there? Jello?” He pursed his lips and hopped off Connor’s lap. “Is there something I can do? Is it bad? How bad is it? Did you lose anything else?”

Blinking wasn’t helping the wrongness Connor felt. In fact, blinking seemed to be making his vision worse.

[Error]

[Left Optical Unit Not Detected]

[Insert Optical Unit]

Connor silenced the notification, frowning. “I… appear to have lost sight in my left eye.”

He glanced up at Cole, now with only one functioning unit, and hated the way the young boy tensed with the news. A twelve-year-old shouldn’t have to deal with this. Honestly, Connor shouldn’t either. But there were only so many processes and biocomponents left, and Connor really didn’t want to be alone.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting you through this,” he murmured, and Cole was right back in his lap, hugging him so tight that Connor’s thirium pump felt it. “I’m scared.” Cole hugged him tighter, and Connor wished Hank was there. He just wanted to see him one more time, before that wasn’t an option at all.

\--- --- ---

[Tear Duct Tank Empty]

[Tear Duct Tank Empty]

[Error]

[Tear Duct Tank Unresponsive]

[Error]

[Biocomponents #E790 thru #E820 Unresponsive]

Connor pressed his lips together. He couldn’t move his legs. Everything below the waist was dead weight, and he couldn’t feel it. Try as he might, he couldn’t wiggle the fingers on his left hand or bend his wrist, and now his system couldn’t find his elbow. His tongue sensors were gone, so his mouth tasted and sensed nothing. He couldn’t leave his office, couldn’t even leave his chair, because his battery was destroyed. And prod as he might, Connor could not get his left eye working. Now his tear ducts were gone, which hurt even though he’d used up all of his tears half an hour ago.

He wanted to scream. He was trapped in a body that only had one good arm, one good eye, two audio sensors, and a voice box to work with. That was an oversimplification, but he felt as useful as the plastic plant in the corner of the room.

Cole had stayed with him, had cried with him, and now he was asleep against Connor. Perhaps the boy was too large to do so comfortably, but he’d fallen asleep on Connor’s lap all the same. Connor was grateful for the company, even if Cole could do nothing to help.

It was slow torture, being trapped in a body that wouldn’t obey him. In his memory bank, Elijah Kamski smiled sadly and remarked on how disappointed Connor’s soul mate would be if he saw Connor in such a state. It stung back then, and the words stung just as badly now that Connor was dying.

But Hank was not disappointed. Hank was scared, like Connor was scared, but never had he seemed disappointed. To drown out the unlocked memories of Kamski, Connor replayed every moment he’d spent with Hank, and then he played the moment Hank saw Cole for the first time twice more.

For the briefest of moments, he had felt virus free and everything had been perfect. He wanted to stay in that moment for as long as possible.

A low rumble of rushing feet and harried voices drifted in through the door, but Connor felt listless and barely paid the sound any attention. That or his audio processor was going, but he hadn’t gotten an alert about it yet.

The door to his office swung open and Markus stepped into view. Connor barely had time to process the new company when several other people pushed into the room. Hank came first, half stumbling as a woman shoved him ahead. It was Melissa Hendricks, and Connor’s arm instinctively came up around Cole.

“Lay off, Mel,” Hank snapped, regaining his footing. Then he saw the two in the chair and his jaw dropped. All eyes were on Connor and Cole, and it was one more nail in Connor’s heart, in his coffin. No one was giving him a reassuring smile now.

Cole stirred and pushed himself up, rolling his shoulder to regain proper blood flow. It only took a moment for him to notice the new group, including his mother, and he frowned. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Did you find the cure? W-When did mom get here?”

“Cole, hunny,” Melissa said, her voice torn between sweet and angry. “I came to take you home.”

The boy’s hand slipped around Connor’s forearm and held on tight. “I am home. I came back to Detroit, back to Dad.” His grip tightened, and Connor recognized it as an effort not to shake. “You don’t even want me in California. It’ll be easier for you if I stay here, right? So just… go back to Uncle Teddy, and I’ll stay here, and then we can all be happy.”

Connor wished he could focus on the tense moment, but his one good eye was on Hank. Suddenly he was glad his tear ducts were broken and empty. He’d gotten his wish. Hank was here. Connor wanted to say a lot of things, things he probably wouldn’t say if he wasn’t dying, and the only reason he didn’t was the boy in his lap. He didn’t want to interrupt the moment, but he wanted Hank so much closer.

Melissa frowned, her forehead knit with confusion and concern. “Are you saying you weren’t happy?”

Instead of answering her, Cole turned to his father. His voice was too desperate when he asked, “Did you find the cure?”

“Kind of.” Hank strode across the room and knelt beside the chair. He looked up into Connor’s polyalloy face without flinching. “Connor.”

“I can’t see out of my left eye,” Connor said sadly. “Please… Lean to my right.”

Hank’s brow knit deeper than Melissa’s and he immediately did as requested. His old dog eyes were full of a terrified hope. “Kamski said he gave the antivirus to an android. Did he give it to you?”

Oh. Hank was here for the antivirus. Except that Connor didn’t have it, and the disappointment could kill both of them. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Kamski gave me many things, Hank. An antivirus is not one of them.”

“Fuck.” Hank dropped his head into his hand and rubbed at his forehead.

Melissa groaned. “Could this room be more depressing? Cole, let’s go. Enough playing around.”

“Wait.” Hank raised his head, but his eyes weren’t focused on anything. He took a slow breath. Connor tried to catalog every crease in his skin, every detail of his face. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“No, Hank.” Melissa took a step forward, but Markus put an arm out to stop her.

“Not you,” Hank grunted. Finally his eyes looked up into Connor’s again. “Kamski’s assistant. She said I should tell you to play cards. Does that – Does that mean anything to you?”

[Error]

[Left Audio Processor Malfunctioning]

“Play… cards.” It was harder to concentrate when his stimuli kept changing. He frowned. He’d played plenty of cards with Cole, but nothing about them would save Connor’s life.

A card. A joker. A grim reaper. Kamski’s smile as he said, “I’m always playing with a full deck.” Connor’s head jerked to look at his desk while Hank and Cole leaned away in shock.

“Cole,” Connor said, tense. “In the top drawer of my desk.” Cole didn’t need to be told specifics. He was up and hurrying over in an instant. While he was ripping open drawers, Connor looked down at Hank. “Kamski… He barged into a consult I was having at a CyberLife Repair Center last week. He gave me an electronic playing card.”

Hank let out a gasp of relief, which Connor expected. But so did Markus, which he did not. Hank glanced back at his son, then at Connor. “That’s gotta be it, then. That’s the antivirus!”

For a wonderful moment, Connor was infected by that excitement, that relief, and he smiled. But it was short lived. As Cole came hurrying back over and gave the card to his father, Connor turned his face away from both Andersons. This was from Kamski. The man who had spent months picking Connor apart and trying to put him back together in the way he best saw fit – that was the man who’d made this supposed cure. There was a reason Connor had pushed the memory of it away.

“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.

“Kamski made it,” Connor murmured.

“So?” Hank held the card out for Connor to take.

“So sometimes the cure is worse than the illness.” Connor looked down at that laughing grim reaper of a joker. He was equally torn between saving his own life and never letting Elijah Kamski get into his systems again.

“The fuck it’s worse!” Hank shouted, shifting so he was more in Connor’s vision. He grabbed up Connor’s right hand and put the card in it. “It’s this or death, Connor. How is this worse?”

Slowly Connor curled his fingers to hold the card. It was unlikely he could ever really make Hank understand, but that was the nature of trauma, wasn’t it? “He’s been in my head before, Hank. I have no wish to let him back in.”

Now Hank was really getting frustrated. He snatched the card back but then dropped it in Connor’s lap with a huff. Before Connor could lower his arm, Hank had him by the wrist. He stared with determination into Connor’s face.

“I know he’s a fucked up guy, Connor. I hated him and I only met him the one time. But isn’t this worth the risk?” He gently shook Connor’s hand around where Connor could see the blank skin. Soul mates. Connor knew how painful it was to imagine never seeing Hank again. Of course Hank was feeling that too. Maybe Connor was looking at this wrong. “Fuck, even if that isn’t, isn’t your life worth it?”

His soul mate. Connor glanced up toward the door. Markus was still there, his eyes sad and his posture tense. Markus had his soul mate. He knew what Hank meant. Connor could hear Simon in his head from when this whole mission began. “Your soul mate still needs you.” Even after matching for so long, Simon and Markus were still there for each other. Perhaps Markus was speaking to Simon even now for support. Though Connor had never put much thought into his soul mate, had never much cared if he found them at all, there was something about death that made a person reconsider things.

Connor did want that bond. He didn’t want Markus and Simon’s relationship, precisely, but he did want that person who understood him better than anyone. More importantly, he didn’t want to die. He gave one of his customary half-smiles to no one in particular before looking back at Hank. Connor really didn’t want to die. And he was tired of being in a body that didn’t listen. If this card was really the antivirus…

[Error]

[Right Optical Unit Not Detected]

Connor let out a little gasp and curled his hand around Hank’s. Everything was black. He had no optical sensors left.

“What? What happened?” Hank asked. He sounded closer now that Connor couldn’t see him.

“Give me the card,” Connor said, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

To his side, Connor heard Cole gasp. Were his eyes turning gray the way his arm and legs had done? Connor couldn’t imagine the horror of such a sight. The weight of the card was recognizable even without his eyes when Hank put it in his hand. He remembered the details of it from when Kamski had given it to him.

Just like then, Connor could sense the electronics under his fingertips. Unlike then, he initiated the program to access the card’s data. If his synthskin had still been operational, it would have peeled back to allow the process. As it was, Connor doubted much changed on the outside.

[Initializing…]

[1 File Found]

[Run Program File ‘REAPER?]

Connor took a breath he didn’t need and shut his eyes.

[Initializing Program File…]

[‘REAPER’ Successfully Loaded]

[Loading Interface…]

[‘REAPER’ Has Detected A Virus]

[Running Antivirus]

[10%]

It was like a cooling balm was being dripped into his thirium drive. As strange as it was refreshing. On the one hand, this was Kamski’s program, and it still made him anxious to think about that man inside his system. This program would be touching every fiber of his wiring.

[40%]

The cool spread along every artificial nerve he had remaining and he shivered slightly in its wake. This was Kamski’s work… but on the other hand, it felt productive, intrinsic, and right. From the moment the program began purging the virus, Connor felt… better.

[75%]

The audio processor that had been failing gave an almost imperceptible click and the room’s audio altered, came in clearer. The sound hit Connor in his chest, relieving tension he hadn’t even noticed. It was like regaining his arm all over again.

[100%]

[‘REAPER’ Has Successfully Executed 1 Threat]

He opened his eyes, but his optical units were not repaired. Likewise, his legs and hand still did not respond. However Connor knew that the program had succeeded. He could feel it. Humans took medication to feel better, but there was no way to explain to them just how much Connor could feel the loss of the ASH virus.

“Connor?” Markus was closer than he had been. “Did it work?”

[Running Diagnostic]

His diagnostic system was up and functioning. Good sign.

[All Systems Operational. Multiple Biocomponents Unaccounted For.]

[Contact The Nearest CyberLife Repair Center?]

A little smile tugged on Connor’s lips. “I believe it did. Previously malfunctioning components have returned to full potential. However, all components destroyed by the virus are still not operational.”

“Yeah, you still look gray,” Cole noted.

Somewhere in front of him, Markus let out a relieved chuckle. “Okay. _That_ I think we can handle.”

Hank’s grip on his wrist tightened, and Connor heard him let out the heaviest sigh in their acquaintance. “Jesus,” he mumbled. Connor turned his hand over to let the card fall away and then moved to take Hank’s hand in his own. He squeezed Hank’s hand for support… for both of them.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/56985628)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/57129097)


	11. Chapter 11

[Initializing…]

[No Viruses Detected]

His system had never truly been able to sense the virus, but this time he knew the diagnostic outcome was correct. He felt it in every part of him that still worked – the ASH virus was gone. The antivirus was a big deal. Hundreds of androids needed the cure to the mutating ASH virus. Finding out they had the antivirus was momentous and amazing, and Connor was so happy to be alive that he thought the whole world must be smiling with him. They’d accomplished their mission. They’d won.

But he forgot for a moment that the world existed outside of the bubble he’d built for himself.

Cole’s young arms wrapped Connor’s shoulders in a loose hug, and from behind the boy came a long sigh. Connor wouldn’t say the sound stole all of his joy, but it certainly reminded him that there were other problems at work. Of course Connor’s largest complaint was that he was virtually nonexistent. He couldn’t get out of his chair or see – curing himself hadn’t fixed those problems yet. So he had to rely on sound to get a grasp on the situation.

In front of him, Hank grunted and released his hand so he could stand and face his ex. Without his imminent death clouding his processors, Connor had the time to wonder how long Melissa Hendricks had been in town. What were her true intentions?

“Something the matter?” Hank asked sourly.

“No. I’m very happy you fixed your boyfriend. But I came for my son. So since your drama is over, I’d like you to return him to me.”

He wished he could see. They both sounded tense, and he expected at least one of them was crossing their arms defensively, if not both. Connor, of course, was on Hank’s side, but he could admit Melissa had valid points behind her behavior as well. After all, Connor had instigated her son running away from home. He would understand if Ms. Hendricks never liked him. A missing child was a parent’s worst nightmare.

Cole moved away from Connor’s side, leaving the android completely alone on the edge of this confrontation. With a clear voice, Cole said, “I don’t want to go home with you, Mom.”

Melissa sighed again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not how it works for children. You have to stay with your parent.”

“And I will.” Cole said. “I’m staying with Dad. I… I already know that I’m holding you back, so I’m not just being a selfish kid. I wanna stay with Dad for you too. Dad really, really wants me to be here in Detroit. Connor told me so.” Connor hoped Cole didn’t go into all the good things Connor said about his father. That would take too long and be very embarrassing. “And you really, really wanna find your soul mate, and you think you can’t do that with me and Dad around.”

“That’s –” Melissa spluttered, the rigidity knocked out of her words. But she came up with no counter argument.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Cole stepped away from Hank and closer to Melissa. By Connor’s calculations of the sound and the architecture of his office, Cole was roughly halfway between his parents. How very symbolic. “I’m not… I’m not mad at you.” He sounded like he may cry again. “I just want you to be happy. So it’s okay. I still love you.”

There was more movement, several sounds Connor could only identify as clothing moving but not what the movement was. His stilted reconstruction of the scene presumed that Cole closed the distance to his mother, but he wished he could see the facial expressions, the body language. So much of his usual adaptability was based on tiny changes in those two things. As it was, Connor didn’t know if he needed to speak up or let things go, but since Hank wasn’t moving to stop any of it, Connor could safely assume that there was no reason to get in the way.

“You know I love you, right?” Melissa Hendricks asked, voice low.

“I know.” Cole murmured back.

“And you know I just wanted to be the best mom I could be.”

“I know.” Cole sounded a little strained, a little hopeful. “Letting me live with Dad doesn’t make you a bad mom, y’know?”

Even an android like Connor was impressed by the level of maturity coming from a twelve-year-old. Maybe Connor would try to paint that trait later. The chances weren’t likely, though.

Technically Cole and Connor were the same age – twelve years – but in most cases Connor was far superior in every way, even mentally. He knew his intellect and ability to navigate life far outstripped a human child, yet somehow he felt less mature than Cole in this moment. He was forgiving his mother for her absenteeism and for his lost childhood. Connor had a tendency for stubbornness and couldn’t guarantee he’d arrive at forgiveness if given the same circumstances.

“We – We can video chat whenever you want,” Cole continued. “And I’ll send you my report cards from school. And if I gotta go to the doctor, I can call you so it’ll be like you’re there with us. It’ll work out. Right?”

Connor’s thirium pump whirred a little faster. In this planned future, he wondered where his place would be. Would he help with the homework? Would he take Cole for checkups when Hank was working? Connor was not a home droid, but his job was less strict on timetables than Hank’s. And they were soul mates. Connor knew he’d be in Cole’s future, but there was no way to accurately predict how. Still, Connor found himself excited by the potentials.

“Okay,” Melissa whispered.

“You mean –?” Cole stopped, too hopeful to finish the question.

There was a moment of silence, not as tense as before, and then Melissa said, “Your dad and I probably need to do some kind of legal thing, but… with video calls and the internet, who knows, maybe it won’t feel so bad.” She took a deep breath. “I just want to see you smile more.”

“Same to you,” Cole said, a bright smile in his voice. “I love you.”

Connor heard the telling sounds of sniffling and knew the pair had begun to cry for each other. It was highly probable that they were embracing now. Connor wished he could see and appreciate it.

“Ms. Hendricks,” Markus said, breaking into the moment. “Perhaps I can loan you my office. A goodbye of this nature shouldn’t be rushed through. Please. Take as long as you need in private and settle things.”

“Well… Thank you?”

“Detective,” Markus continued. Even without his eyes, Connor could hear the way Markus was redirecting. He was separating people, ending the tense situation. “I’ll take care of Connor, so you should return to the station. You have what you came for.”

With a grunt, Hank said, “Uh. Right. Yeah. I guess I…” He shifted around and Connor knew he was being looked at.

He tried to give a little smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Hank. Get the antivirus to the others.”

So many other androids needed that antivirus. Every second they wasted was another possible android losing a limb, an eye, a life. Hank needed to get that antivirus to the station, let Ashby upload it to the internet. Then Ashby could make copies of the cure and distribute it even further. A lot of Connor’s previous excitement for life returned at the thought of saving other lives. Well, to be fair, Hank would be the one instigating the cure, but Connor wanted to relish the pride for a minute.

“Alright. But I’ll be back as quick as I can.” Hank walked toward the door, but he hesitated. Based on the sound, he was somewhere near his son and ex-girlfriend. “I expect a fuckin goodbye this time,” he said with a grunt to Melissa. Then his next words were much lighter, presumably to Cole. “Hold the fort, kid.”

The sound of the door closing made Connor flinch. It was louder than he expected, or maybe he was already regretting letting Hank leave. Markus beckoned Ms. Hendricks and Cole to follow him from the office. The second door closing just left Connor cold.

Silence.

Darkness.

Connor strained his audio processors, tried to tweak them to pick up more sounds. The sounds of Markus and the others was too faint to understand, and soon was too far to even hear. The late evening hour meant most others had gone home. Even his terminal on the desk was silent, since he’d shut it off after learning of his infection.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Never had seconds passed so leisurely. Connor watched his internal clock for a full minute before realizing he was counting down to nothing. He had no information about when anyone would return to see him again, although he suspected Markus had a plan.

How did a blind, immobile android left to their own devices spend their time?

[Incoming Message]

[1 Message from Markus Manfred Received]

‘Did you like your old eye color or would you like to change it?’

[Reply?]

[Yes/No?]

His immediate reaction was to decline a response. He didn’t want to risk infection to – But then he remembered. He’d been cured. Connor could interact with any electronics he wanted to, just as he had before the virus.

He retrieved the message again.

[Yes]

‘I would prefer to keep my eyes as they were.’

Knowing Markus, he was actively purchasing Connor new eyes. Normally Connor would protest, but it was invariably too late. So instead of arguing, he tried to at least put a limit on what Markus purchased.

‘Please don’t spend too much on my repairs. I can buy several components myself.’

Somehow he could picture Markus chuckling at his attempt to dissuade. The leader of Jericho had always been stubborn, and this run in with the ASH virus had revealed his familial feelings for Connor. It was possible he would ignore Connor’s request, but there was also the possibility that he would adhere to it.

[1 Message from Markus Manfred Received]

‘I could never put a price on family, Connor. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to be frugal.’

Connor smiled a little. There was no negotiating with some people. Markus could normally be reasoned with, but sometimes he felt too strongly about something and he wouldn’t back down. Connor barely had time to be amused by the idea before someone knocked on his office door and stepped inside.

“Hey, Connor.” It was Simon, but by the sound of it he wasn’t alone. “Markus said you’re in the clear?”

“That appears to be accurate,” Connor agreed. “Who’s with you?”

Even without his eyes, Connor could tell Simon was sheepish by the tone of his voice. The blonde was probably rubbing his hands together or touching the back of his neck or some other innately human motion. “Ah. Now don’t hold it against anyone, but we’ve been gathering parts for you. Every time one of your components shut down, one of us ordered you a new one.”

Connor’s brow knit and he frowned. Sound alone wasn’t helping him identify anyone with Simon. “Who’s we?”

Someone scoffed and it sounded suspiciously like North. “Don’t be a moron,” she said, and that was definitely North. “He means the council, obviously. Me, Simon, Josh, and Markus. The people who knew you were infected.”

“I’ve got your new battery,” Josh said. “And I brought two service techs to help me install it. But you’re gonna need to go into stasis so we can do that.”

Biocomponents were expensive. New batteries weren’t cheap either. Connor’s frown tightened. He had money in savings. Even after getting Cole across the country, he had plenty to spare. He didn’t need everyone to buy him new parts. But the fact that they had come together to repair him, that they had been so sure of his recovery that they’d bought everything in advance – it made something in his chest flutter almost painfully. He felt… cared for. He felt loved.

“Well don’t look too excited,” North muttered, and he knew she was crossing her arms.

“Thank you,” Connor replied just as quietly. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Why would you need to say anything else?” North asked. He could identify her stride now that he knew who she was, and she crossed to his chair in long but quick steps. She flicked his nose, which sent off several proximity warnings, and then ruffled his hair. “You don’t gotta give a speech or anything. We’re just doing what families do. Dummy.”

“We all know you’d do the same for any of us,” Josh said, and several more feet moved in around Connor. Although it would be counterproductive to debate hypotheticals, Connor was positive Josh was correct. If Markus or any of the others had been the ones to get infected, Connor wouldn’t have hesitated to donate his money to the cause. Then Josh’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Stasis, Connor. We gotta get you back in working order.”

Nodding, Connor took a deep, unnecessary breath.

[Stasis Mode Initializing…]

Hopefully when he woke up, he’d be able to open his eyes and see again. Hopefully the antivirus would be distributed, and Hank would be back. Connor wanted to open his eyes and see his humans again.

Stasis took over, and Connor didn’t notice any of his components being replaced or any time passing. In fact he didn’t notice anything at all.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/57129097)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/57315892)


	12. Chapter 12

[Initializing…]

[Stasis Deactivated]

[Uncommon Pressure On Diaphragm]

[Thirium Drive Proximity Warning]

Connor opened his eyes and quickly looked down at his lower abdomen. For a startling moment, he worried someone had pried open his chest plate. For a terrifying moment, he worried that someone might be Elijah Kamski, come to finish some twisted plan of his. But as soon as his eyes focused, his stress level dropped.

On his lap was a very cuddly Cole Anderson. He’d wrapped his arms around Connor and pressed close, inadvertently triggering the proximity alert. Scanning Cole, Connor found no injuries or irregularities. Good. Then Connor caught sight of his hands. They were white, the pristine white that only came from new parts. He blinked, felt the processes in him running, and then the white of his hands was slowly covered by the pale, tan skin that made Connor look human. He felt the hair repopulate on his head. If Hank asked, Connor would describe the whole process as similar to walking through an air curtain.

He lifted his right hand and turned it over, examining the new skin, and the movement finally alerted Cole. The twelve-year-old leaned back, although he stayed in Connor’s lap.

“You look normal again,” he said very quietly.

Connor gave a little half-smile. “I’m sorry if my polyalloy made you uncomfortable, but everything should be alright now.”

Cole shook his head. “I- I wasn’t worried about the polyalloy. But Mr. Markus and the others replaced most of your face and a lot of the rest of you too. I was worried you wouldn’t look like you anymore. Or sound like you. But you’re the same.”

Nodding slowly, Connor said, “Yes. Optical units can change our eye color, but androids can choose their own synthskin. We’re pre-programmed with one, and we can alter it with new coding if we wish. But I like the way I look. Don’t you?”

Cole giggled a little. “Yeah. You’ve got freckles, just like me.” He poked at one on Connor’s cheeks, tugging the skin to the side like when Connor smiled. Cole giggled again. “I even like your goofy grin.”

Connor’s eyebrows drew low in curiosity even as he smiled the so-called ‘goofy’ grin. “You think I look goofy?”

“I like it,” Cole repeated.

Well, who could argue with that? Connor’s lips tugged up more, and he was fully smiling a moment later. When Cole hugged him, he hugged right back, and then the pre-teen slid off Connor’s lap. Since his legs were stronger than normal human bone and muscle, Connor could’ve held Cole there all day, but he knew that was unusual for humans.

“My mom and me talked a lot after you went to sleep. I think we worked out a lot of stuff, but I also think there’s a lot I don’t understand. She’ll have to work that out with dad.” He frowned a little. “Oh. She’s coming to talk to you too, by the way. But go easy on her. Dad already scolded her about taking me away and all that. I guess she’s really thinking hard about a lot of things now, and she feels bad about what she did. So just… don’t yell at her, okay?”

“I promise,” Connor said. He tested wiggling his toes in his shoes and found they responded. Fantastic. “Where is she now?”

“I told her I’d come get her when you woke up. Hang on. I’ll go get her now.” He leaned in for another hug. “I’ll go grab you one of those thirium drinks after, okay? Mr. Markus said I could come get one when you woke up, and I could get a snack too. So, uh, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Cole grinned, excited, and then scurried from the room. The door shut heavily behind him.

In the silence of his office, Connor gripped the arms of his chair. His toes responded so his legs should as well. He still proceeded cautiously as he pushed himself up from his seat. No warning signals flashed. Everything functioned as directed. He turned and walked to his desk. Again, no errors.

He’d been infected for only a short while. His symptoms had begun to shut him down for less than a week. Yet Connor felt the relief of movement in his limbs like a man who’d gone without them for years. Connor hadn’t thought he took anything for granted, especially not his biocomponents, but from now on he would be extra grateful to be in full control of his every nerve.

He might get a new office chair, just so he would never have to sit in the old one again.

The door opened and shut. Turning slowly, Connor met eye to eye with Melissa Hendricks. She was hesitating by the doorway.

Connor couldn’t say he understood Melissa Hendrick’s actions six years ago. Wanting to be a good mother, wanting to find her soul mate – these were ideas Connor could follow logically. However, he couldn’t grasp how running away with her child had factored in. Surely there were better answers to her problem. But then, sometimes the mind played tricks on people. Psychology was an ever growing field, and Connor did not have that information downloaded and up to date.

Looking into the woman’s eyes, Connor could see that she couldn’t understand him either. They were mysteries to each other, but Connor knew one thing they had in common. They both loved Cole.

By now she had to know that Connor was behind the cross-country trip her son had taken. Cole was a good kid, and he must have told her. Yet she didn’t glare at Connor or raise her voice. She just stared at him, her eyes slightly squinted, her forehead knit, as if she were trying to figure out who or what he was.

“Cole’s right, you know.” Melissa was still leaning against the wall, but she spoke loud enough to be clear. “You do have an odd face.”

“I was designed to work harmoniously with humans,” Connor explained. “Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration, back when I was a negotiator android.”

Melissa frowned slightly, and somehow Connor felt like he was looking at Hank. “Well they fucked up,” she said, and even that sounded like it was coming from Hank. They had similar personalities, it seemed. The similarity was simply hard to tell under Melissa’s panic and anger. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re approachable. You’ve got that ‘innocent’ look going on. But that also makes you look inexperienced. Who’d want to put their trust in that kind of face?”

For some reason, Connor felt defensive. With his looming death no longer an issue, part of him even felt jealous of Melissa. She’d known both Hank and Cole for far longer than Connor had, but she’d squandered the opportunities. How could someone like her ask such a question? Who’d want to put their trust in someone like Connor, she asked?

“Cole did,” he said, voice hard, and Melissa tensed. “Hank as well. In this world, it is often more beneficial to seem innocent than to seem spiteful. My appearance may be young, but my skills are quite adept. Both Hank and Cole put their trust in my abilities, and I did my best to help. I hope to continue to help Hank find a healthier lifestyle without compromising his joy in living. And I would love to help Cole hone his desire for writing. How does a face like mine negatively impact wants like these?”

Instead of responding, Melissa turned her face away. She stared off toward the bright window and the view of the morning sky beyond it. Connor checked his internal clock and found that it was nearing nine in the morning. Had Hank not returned in the night?

“Your LED is doing that stress thing,” Melissa said, not turning to face him but glancing at him sideways. “What, you mad at me or something? That’s rich.” She scoffed.

A moment of calm concentration brought Connor’s LED down from yellow to blue. It was true that he had been defensive about her assumptions on his appearance. However, Connor was not mad at her. He barely knew her, and this was only their second interaction. How could he be mad at her? Logically, _she_ should be mad at _him_ , and she probably was. And she was defensive. Hank had already scolded her for her actions all those years ago. She probably expected Connor to do the same.

“I want to apologize, Miss Hendricks,” he said to catch her full attention, and she turned a suspicious stare his way. Connor made sure to keep his voice pleasant and non-confrontational. “I sought Cole out for his father’s sake. I helped Cole sneak away because he said he wanted to come to Detroit, and I was thinking only of his and Hank's feelings. I admit it was only much later that I realized I had completely forgotten to take into consideration _your_ feelings. You had reasons for running away.” Melissa frowned and then her lips parted like she might speak, but Connor spoke over any attempt. “Maybe I don’t understand them. Maybe most people won’t, in fact, but you had reasons. I ignored any thought of them during my planning. You must have been quite worried when you realized Cole was missing. Any good mother would be.” Connor bowed his head. “Please accept my apology. I should have gone about this entirely different.”  
  


Melissa crossed her arms and then uncrossed them. Then she let out a little sigh and said, “Well... I mean, I guess you were dying, so I can give you a little leeway.” When Connor raised his gaze again, he found her looking the tiniest bit gloomy. “Also I hear people do crazy stuff when they find their soul mates. And you seem to really love them both.”

“I do.” Connor admitted. Then he frowned while he tried to find the right words to continue. “It's kind of...”

“Weird?” Melissa asked, her despondent look disappearing and being replaced by a little smug smile. Was she teasing him?

He answered sincerely. “Honestly, I'm still getting used to it. I've never given anyone this much attention before in my life. But I can't help it. Trust me, I've tried.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Melissa said with a tiny chuckle. “You’re not exactly the cuddliest android I’ve ever met.”

Connor nodded and they lapsed into a silence that was no longer tense and uncomfortable. Apologizing had discharged the antagonism from Melissa’s body, and she now leaned casually against the wall. They both glanced toward the door, but Cole did not appear. Connor could accurately predict that Cole was having trouble deciding what snack he wanted. Knowing Markus, the lounge had far too many options that it normally had none of.

“You know, I only wanted to be the best mom I could be,” Melissa said, her voice low. She kept her eyes on the closed door as she spoke. “Good moms don't abandon their children. Good moms provide for their family. Good moms fight for their children. And I guess somewhere along the way, I was trying so hard to be what I thought a good mom should be that I actually stopped being a very good mom. I forgot to listen to what Cole wanted. And I didn't realize I was making him sad.” She sighed and then took a deep breath. Finally, she glanced in his direction. “So if you have to apologize for ignoring my feelings for a week, then I need to apologize to my son for many years to come to make up for all of my ignorance.”

Connor gave his little half smile and shrugged. “You’re listening now,” he pointed out. “I think that will suffice for Cole.”

That earned him a weary smile, but it was still a smile and Connor counted it as a step in the right direction for their acquaintance. He didn’t want to be at odds with Melissa Hendricks. He just didn’t want her making Hank or Cole sad.

“Have you eaten?” Connor asked, changing the subject. He motioned for the door. “I can show you to the lounge. Markus always keeps it stocked with food for guests. That’s most likely where Cole got stuck as well.”

After a moment of uncertainty, she agreed, and Connor strode to the door to show her the way. He let her exit first before walking ahead down the hall. The lounge was on the first floor, in case any human visitors needed it but weren’t allowed on the more restricted levels. Connor and Melissa only made it to the elevators.

When the doors slid open, Cole came bounding out as expected, but so did Hank. Cole gave an excited greeting and quickly shoved a bright blue bottle of thirium into Connor’s hands. He’d grabbed several baked snack bars for himself, and Hank was holding a water bottle and a bottle of tea that he didn’t seem to know what to do with.

When Hank spotted Melissa, there was a moment of awkward silence before Hank gently tossed her the tea bottle. She caught it easily before staring curiously down at the label.

“Still your favorite, I assume,” Hank grunted, stepping out of the elevator at last. “And where were you two heading off for? I just got here.”

Everything felt so much easier when Hank was around, and Connor literally had no understanding of such a feeling. He was a logical machine, but simply seeing Hank was making him feel better, even with the lieutenant sort of glowering around and being familiar with his ex.

“I was taking Melissa to get something to eat,” Connor explained easily. Was he smiling? He felt like he was. “Long night?”

“Too long,” Hank replied, and he was starting to grin under his shaggy beard too. “But all the Repair Centers have the antivirus and we’ve got patrols out looking for anyone infected. The precinct systems had to be cleaned out too since Reed had sent the virus to more than just my terminal. It’s a whole fuckin’ mess, but we’ve got it covered.”

“That is great news.” If LEDs could flash a calmer color than blue, Connor’s would be there.

Beside him, Melissa cleared her throat. “I’m very happy for you, but I’m also hungry.” She turned to Connor. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I should just head home. I’ll grab a bite at the airport or something.”

“But –!“ Cole’s protest was drowned out by Hank’s, “Now hang on a minute!”

“Seriously. I took off without thinking and I’ve got work to get back to. Bills don’t pay themselves, you know.” Melissa shrugged and shuffled into the elevator, but she didn’t escape. Cole hurried on with her, which of course drew Hank back in and Connor along with him. “Seriously….” Melissa sighed.

“You can’t leave without a goodbye hug,” Cole argued. “And a gentleman always walks his mom, or any lady, to the door.”

Melissa let out a click of happiness and bent over to hug her son. “Gosh, how did you turn out so wonderful? I’m gonna miss you like my own right arm.”

“As someone who has lost that particular body part, I can confirm that means she’ll miss you a lot,” Connor said and then grinned to prove he was teasing.

Cole laughed and Hank snickered, and Melissa almost laughed too but she forcibly held it in. She smiled though, and that was more than enough.

They reached the bottom floor without much more conversation. Mainly Cole just kept holding onto his mother’s hand, then letting go to eat something, then holding on again. He was twelve, and some might claim that meant he didn’t need to hold his mother’s hand anymore, but some would be wrong. After Melissa walked out of the building, Cole had no indication of how long it would be before he set eyes on his mother in person again. This was the hold of a young man who wanted as much contact with his mother as possible before he had to say goodbye.

The whole group filed out onto the bottom floor in a single-file line, with Connor in the back. Hank had tried to let Connor out first, but in Connor’s mind this was still a family affair, and he was not family. It made sense for him to go last.

“Well, it was kinda nice seeing Detroit again,” Melissa mused. She turned halfway around as she walked so she could smile down at her son. “Maybe I’ll have to visit soo-ah!” She’d backed up into a black man standing in the lobby, making him drop a small box of memory sticks. “Oh what the fuck,” she cried out, dropping down with the man to help retrieve the sticks. He opened his mouth, his face confused, but she spoke over him. “No, not you! I just can’t believe I ran into someone. Jesus. You’d think I was some idiot teenager with her nose in her phone!”

The man laughed slightly and shook his head. “That’s all fine, Ma’am. Happens to the best of us.” He was a middle-aged police officer in full uniform, and his nametag read ‘M. Wilson’. Judging by all the memory sticks, he’d likely come with Hank to drop off some of the anti-virus. Connor’s theory was proven when the man straightened up with the retrieved sticks and spotted Hank. “Lieutenant. The folks here at Jericho accepted all the boxes except for this one. Said we ought to take them to some of the shelters downtown.”

Hank rolled his shoulders. “Yeah. Sounds good. Think you can handle it without me?”

“Yeah, I –” The officer trailed off, his dark eyes finding Connor. “Oh, hey. It’s you.”

Connor knit his brow, trying to remember when he may have met this man.

[Searching…]

The black man smiled. “Hey, I might not be an android, but I’d never forget _your_ face.” He looked back at Hank’s confused expression. “Before the revolution, this guy saved my ass during a standoff. He was brought in to negotiate with some gang members, ‘cause back then nobody cared about… you know. Anyway, there was a shoot out, and I got hit. This guy diverted his mission to pull me out of harm’s way and give me a tourniquet. If not for him, I’d be dead.”

[Facial Recognition Confirmed. Marvin Wilson.]

Hank was staring at him. Connor tried to seem nonchalant. “It was the most logical option at the time. We didn’t lose a single officer that day, and we managed to bring down a major drug operation. It looked good on the record.”

“Maybe I should be surprised,” Hank said, shaking his head slightly. “But damn, I’d be a liar if I said I was. You sure do love to get right in the heart of matters, don’t you? Gotta get that adrenaline.”

“Maybe. But next time I’ll be more careful. Things were a little too intense this time around.” Almost dying was not on his to-do list anymore. Besides that, he now wanted to be around for Cole, for Hank. For as long as they’d put up with him, he wanted to help them and be with them.

Melissa cleared her throat and all eyes returned to her. She was holding up one last memory stick and offering an embarrassed smile. “Sorry again for bumping into you.” Officer Wilson took the stick slowly and smiled too.

“Hey, you know Lieutenant Anderson?” he asked.

“Oh. We haven’t seen each other in… you know, six years,” Melissa said, her embarrassment flooding her face. The explanation was barely passable and didn’t mention Cole, but Connor supposed he understood the desire to not explain one’s life story.

“Ah. I mean, sorry. I should introduce myself. I’m Marvin Wilson. I’m an officer with the DPD.” He shifted to hold the box in one arm and held out his other hand to shake.

“Uh, Melissa Hendricks,” she said, slowly accepting the shake. “I work… I’m a waitress at the moment. But I’m trying to start my own business – low-income fashion that looks like designer.”

Officer Wilson seemed very interested, and Connor’s sensors monitored him during his reply. His pupil dilation, body language, and breathing suggested his interest was genuine. Connor focused his sensors on Melissa while Officer Wilson spoke and noticed similar reactions. They were attracted to each other.

“Officer Wilson,” Connor spoke up, breaking up the small talk the two had been going through. “Ms. Hendricks needs to catch a flight and has not had breakfast this morning. I know you’re busy with those memory sticks, but would you mind putting that mission on hold for a moment?” He motioned between the two. “I’m asking if you would mind driving her to the airport and finding something to eat on the way.”

Officer Wilson stuttered a bit and looked to Hank for direction. The older man shrugged lazily. “If you don’t mind driving the lady to the airport, then it’s fine by me. Give the box here.”

“Only if Ms. Hendricks doesn’t mind,” Officer Wilson said, handing the box over as Hank beckoned for it. Officer Wilson looked to Melissa. “Would you like a ride to the airport?”

A flustered Melissa was something new, and she couldn’t seem to reset to her hardened angry mom state of being. “I- If you’re offering, then I guess I don’t mind. It’s cheaper than a taxi or the train.”

“That it is, ma’am.” Officer Wilson was smiling again. He offered Melissa his arm and after a moment she took it. “I’ll see you back at the station, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Hank grumbled, shifting the box around.

Melissa turned halfway back and smiled down at her son. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mom.” Cole waved one of his snack bars before continuing to munch.

Then Melissa glanced up at Hank. “Goodbye, Hank.”

“Goodbye, Melissa.” Hank sounded tough, but Connor could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was relieved by the words. He’d never gotten a goodbye the first time around.

They watched the two walk out of the building, arm in arm, chatting quietly. No doubt she was explaining Cole calling her ‘mom’, but Connor had a feeling that Officer Wilson wouldn’t mind her having a child. He was old enough to have his own that were Cole’s age as well. Only when the door had shut did Hank shift his box again and confront Connor.

“Alright, you gonna explain what just happened? I backed you up, but why’d you ask Wilson to drive her to the airport? You just want them gone that badly?” he asked, brow knit.

A smile tugged up on Connor’s lips and he shook his head. “She and Officer Wilson were showing signs of attraction. I wanted to give them some alone time to explore their feelings of attachment.”

Cole made a gagging noise. “Ew, gross. Are they gonna make out?”

Hank laughed softly at his son’s reaction. “Knowing your mom? Probably not on the first date, but hey, it’s been a long time since we hung out. Maybe she will.” He smiled knowingly at Connor. “Think maybe she can find her soul mate here?”

“Statistically speaking, even unlikely events are possible, Hank.” Connor tipped his head. “I believe such a possibility would be beneficial for everyone involved.”

Shaking his head, Hank sighed and said, “Can’t believe my soul mate sounds like such a nerd.” He raised his head, hand halfway through pushing his hair back, and pursed his lips. “Hey, speakin’ of which. Give me your hand.”

“My hand?” Connor asked, holding up his right hand on demand. As a highly advanced android, it took him far too long to pre-construct what possible motives Hank had. It was only when Hank took up his wrist in his left hand that Connor realized the most likely outcome.

With another sigh, Hank held his hand up in front of Connor’s. “God. Don’t know how long I’ve been thinking this would never happen for me.”

“No one dies without meeting their soul mate, Dad,” Cole chimed in, eyes eagerly fixed on the space between Connor’s hand and his dad’s.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Hank grumbled, but he didn’t move.

Connor, too, was focused on the space between them. Another two inches and they’d be pressing their hands together, attempting to match like billions of people before them. But still Hank did not move. He took several deep breaths, and his grip on Connor’s wrist tightened slightly, but he did not move. Even without his sensors, Connor could read the anxiety in Hank’s breathing and the scrunch of his brow. It was so different from Connor’s calm.

“Hank,” Connor said, drawing the stressed eyes of the lieutenant up from their hands.

“Yeah? What?”

The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched up. “Understand that even if the unlikely is true for us as well and we aren’t soul mates, it is not my intention to leave your side.” He tilted his head slightly. “I care about you a great deal. Didn’t you know?”

Hank’s grip on his wrist loosened, and Connor pushed his hand forward. Their palms connected and Hank flinched in shock. Receiving the anti-virus had been like walking through an air curtain. The feeling rushing through Connor now was akin to walking through a waterfall. A cooling sensation flooded over him, and he could still sense it long after the initial pass, like water clinging to his skin.

His hand tingled – a sensation he had never experienced before – and he watched with awe as an image tattooed itself to the synthskin there. Like everyone else, it was akin to a Rorschach painting, but it was also noticeably a paw print. That was okay with Connor. He liked dogs. And he liked thinking of his bond with Hank as being as loyal and true as a dog.

Pulling their hands apart, Hank turned his hand over again and again, examining the mark from different angles. “You know, somehow I’m not surprised.” Cole was bouncing in place, a beaming smile on his face.

“I like dogs,” Connor said as his agreement. Only after the words came out did he realize that they didn’t really signify agreement in any way. Illogical.

“Yeah?” Hank raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Well you know what I like?”

Tilting his head again, Connor lowered his own hand and said, “What?”

Hank leaned in and kissed him, his large hand coming up to cup Connor’s cheek and hold him in place. Proximity warnings came and were dismissed. No one had ever been so close to him. No one had ever kissed him before. It took Connor several seconds to give any sort of reaction at all, and by then Hank was pulling away. He mimicked Hank, reaching up to hold the other man close and pressing their lips together again. Kissing was new for Connor, but he couldn’t say he overall disliked it. In fact, he could grow accustomed to the scratch of Hank’s beard and the pressure of his mouth and hands. He actually rather enjoyed it.

A wolf whistle broke them apart. It was followed by several cat calls and lewd cheering from above them. When Connor looked up, he saw the second floor terrace and the entire Jericho council watching him. North had started with the wolf whistle, but it was Markus and Josh doing the cheers and the cat calls. Simon was leaning on the rail, smiling knowingly down at him.

“Get it, 800!” Markus called down with a smirk.

“Work those sensors,” Josh chimed in.

“Get a room!” North added on with annoyance in her tone, but she was grinning too wide to fool anyone.

Hank was chuckling, and Connor couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. If their positions had been switched, he would’ve done the same. Connor, who treated everything as logical and sterile and simple, had found his soul mate and was kissing him in the middle of the lobby. It was certainly a sight to see, and not one Connor ever expected.

Beside them, Cole made a retching noise. “Come on, Dad!” he whined. “Warn me before you do something gross!”

“Kissing is gross?” Hank asked in mock surprise, as if Cole hadn’t expressed distaste in the subject only moments earlier.

“Kissing is soooo gross!” Cole exclaimed. Then he shrieked because Hank snatched him up off the ground and started sloppily kissing him all over his cheeks. He dropped his remaining breakfast bars in the scuffle.

Connor bent down and retrieved the items, popping the lid on the thirium replenishment Cole had gotten him as he stood back up. As he watched Hank teasing Cole, he wondered what more he could ask for. The paw print stared out at him in stark contrast to his pale skin, a healthy reminder of his new status. Slowly, nervously, Connor turned off the skin on his hand. Even without the synthskin, the paw print existed. It was in even sharper contrast to the white of Connor’s polyalloy. He smiled at the mark, his stress reducing drastically.

It was real. He had a soul mate and they hadn’t rejected him. He had a soul mate and he had a family at Jericho and he was alive. He really couldn’t ask for anything more. For the first time in many years, he was truly, deeply happy.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/57315892)

[[Continue as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/57373939)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Thank you to everyone who read and double thank you to everyone who left me comments. Your hearts, your compliments, you tumblr messages - they all meant the world to me. Thank you. <3

Back in the beginning, before the revolution, Connor had been employed as a negotiator for the Detroit Police Department’s S.W.A.T. unit. Well, not employed. He worked for them as a machine, not as a person. Back in the beginning, Connor had felt fulfilled and happy with his station in life. He interacted with prejudiced cops and people who didn’t like androids because they were ‘too human’. Back in the beginning, these people didn’t bother him. He was there to do a job, a job he was good at, a job he enjoyed, and nothing else mattered.

He learned what prejudice was, what it could do, when the revolution happened. He learned what it was to be despised and tossed away. He learned was it was to lose your way. He learned about manipulation and depression. And he learned how to pick himself back up. He found a family in Jericho. He thought he’d found enough to get him by until the day he expired.

Meeting Hank was happenstance at best, because anyone else could have taken the job. But the likelihood that Hank would have broken from his drunken stupor for someone else was increasingly unlikely. The more Connor ran the meeting over in his mind, the more he became convinced that their bond was undoubtedly the only thing that made Connor’s request stick. Connor had not made a good argument, but he was glad Hank trusted him anyway.

It had been a week since the spread of the anti-virus in Detroit. Many things had changed. For Connor, the main change was that he no longer lived in his office. He now resided in Hank’s home, though it wasn’t as immoral a living situation as his coworkers seemed to believe. He lay in Hank’s bed only half the nights, and they hadn’t moved their relationship any further. Despite their soul bond, they had decided to take things slow. A relationship was new ground for both of them, since Hank hadn’t been in one in years and Connor hadn’t been in one… ever.

Nine days after the release of the cure, Connor stepped out of a taxi in front of the Detroit Police Station where Hank worked. Behind him, Cole scooted out of the taxi as well and joined him on the sidewalk. The teen had wireless headphones in but his phone was in his jacket pocket. He pulled his jacket tighter and shivered. Snow lightly drifted down around them, not heavy enough to even start a decent snowball fight.

“You’re so lucky you don’t feel the cold,” Cole whined. “I forgot how cold Detroit could get. Can I go back to California?”

Connor raised a curious eyebrow. “Do you want to go back to California? That can be arranged.”

Quickly, Cole started walking toward the station steps. “Dummy. I know you knew that was a joke. You’re a weirdo. Of course not.” And he kept mumbling to himself the whole way inside.

At the doors, however, his progress was halted by another man exiting into the snow. He wore an expensive coat, like an item a famous literary count might wear. And he smiled like the Count too. He slipped around Cole and passed his daydreaming stare over the boy before focusing on Connor.

“Pardon me, young man. I wasn’t looking where I was going. But then, here I’ve found exactly what I’m looking for.” Elijah Kamski held his hands up toward Connor as though showcasing a prodigal son. “Would you mind if I had just a moment alone with Connor? Won’t take a minute.”

Cole squinted at Kamski, probably unsure why the man looked familiar. Eventually he gave a little shrug and glanced to Connor for assurance. Connor nodded in acceptance. He didn’t need Cole around to handle Kamski. In fact, he’d prefer if Cole didn’t stand so close to Kamski for too long.

“I’ll meet you inside, Cole,” Connor said and the boy finally slipped into the warmth of the police station. Connor turned his blank eyes on Kamski. “Why are you here, Mr. Kamski?”

Elijah Kamski gave the smallest of laughs. “Haven’t you heard? My dear half-brother was sentenced to twenty years in prison for his crimes. I simply had to visit him before they took him away. Of course I also made an official statement to the public about the virus. The whole world is convinced I assisted in the investigation and was instrumental in the salvation of hundreds of androids. Of course I love my creations, but we all know I made that antivirus only for you.” His gaze went steely.

Connor kept his expression blank. “It was foolish of you to think I wouldn’t share it with others,” he said, knowing Kamski would hate being called foolish. “You claim to know me so well. You should have known I wouldn’t keep the antivirus for myself.”

The tension on Kamski’s face was almost reward enough. “Yes, well. I must admit I was hoping to run into you today. After all I’ve done for you, I thought we could begin a new set of evaluations. See how such a close run in with death effects the mind. How does finding your soul mate after all this time reframe your worldview?”

“Mr. Kamski,” Connor interrupted. “Forgive me. I’m late for an appointment. If you would like to schedule a meeting, please submit a formal request through the Jericho offices. Excuse me.”

He stepped toward the doors, moving around Elijah Kamski. The latter stopped him with a hand on his shoulder as he passed, but he didn’t turn to look at Connor. In a quiet voice he said, “I always play with a full deck, Connor.”

“Yes,” Connor said, not bothering to speak quieter than normal. “But you misunderstand, Mr. Kamski. I’m no longer playing.”

He pulled away from Kamski’s hand and continued his walk inside. The warmth of the indoor air did not comfort him, but the door between himself and Elijah Kamski certainly did. In many ways, he was surprised he’d had the courage to push Kamski away like that. He’d been in control of a conversation for once in their entire relationship. It felt… good.

Based on Kamski’s words, the antivirus undoubtedly had some sort of special code written into it – something Kamski had hoped would force Connor back into close proximity. By sharing the antivirus with others, Connor must have thwarted that plan. It served Kamski right. There was no need to feel bad about thwarting the plans of a sociopath.

With renewed energy, Connor approached the desk and was subsequently given access to the bullpen. He spotted Hank and Cole instantly, talking animatedly with Captain Fowler. It was unlikely that the captain knew why Connor was coming in today. Hank had been excited to surprise the man with the news – “The look on his face will be priceless,” he’d said.

When Connor got within ten feet of the group, Cole grinned and held his hand out for Connor to take. Hank rolled his eyes at the gesture, but something told Connor that Hank was secretly jealous. Cole liked Connor so much that he often got between Connor and Hank on accident. Or at least _probably_ on accident. But that behavior would lessen over time, once they all became more accustomed to each other in the same house.

“Hey, you must be the android I’ve been hearing so much about. Hank’s soul mate after all this time, right?” the captain said in greeting, trying to sound unimpressed and gruff. He put on a convincing face, but his body’s reactions proved he wasn’t angry – not in his heartbeat or his skin temperature or anything. In fact, he seemed excited.

“Yep, that’s him,” Hank answered for him. “Now Jeffrey, before I leave, I gotta go back to what I was sayin’ last night. The case yesterday was an absolute shitstorm, and I’m tellin’ you, we need to hire a new negotiator. A fuckin’ good one this time.”

Connor couldn’t help his secretive smile at the topic of conversation. On one hand, Hank was playing off what he already knew. On the other, he was laying it on a bit thick.

“Lay off, Hank,” Captain Fowler grumbled. “I already told you, we’re getting a replacement.” He rubbed at his right temple. “Supposed to be some hotshot android who used to work for S.W.A.T. or some bullshit.”

Bouncing slightly, Cole opened his mouth to speak, but Hank silenced him. “Oh, you don’t say?”

Captain Fowler grumbled and tried to ignore Hank in favor of Connor. “Look, we haven’t formally been introduced. I’m Captain Jeffrey Fowler of the DPD. Hank’s boss. He ever gives you a problem, you let me know.” He put his hand out to shake.

Hank pursed his lips but Connor smiled. “I understand.” He slipped his hand into the captain’s. “My name is Connor Arkay. I’m the new negotiator sent by Jericho.”

Captain Fowler’s hand went a bit rigid and his expression went tense. Confusion was evident in every muscle of his face. It only took a second for Hank to lose his false persona. He started laughing, hard, and bent over to slap his own knee. Connor almost felt bad about the teasing, but it was just harmless fun.

“God, Jeffrey, don’t look so damn scared! He’s an android, not a bear!” Hank guffawed.

“Shut your damn mouth, Anderson,” the captain snapped, releasing Connor’s hand. He looked Connor over from head to toe. “Ex-S.W.A.T. negotiator?”

Nodding, Connor folded his hands behind his back and said, “I worked with several teams, but my final command before the revolution was Captain Allen. I look forward to working under _your_ command now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor noticed two women watching the encounter. One was an android, and her desk was near Hank’s. That was Officer Ashby, then. She was quite pretty. Beside her was an Asian woman, leaning on the desk. Possibly Detective Chen, but without facing her directly, he couldn’t do a search. When he was finished speaking with the captain, Connor made it a note to go meet with the women who’d helped save his life.

Captain Fowler harrumphed. “I don’t like being teased at work,” he said, shooting Hank a look as the lieutenant finally got a hold on his laughter. “But you look more professional than this asshole, so I guess… Welcome aboard. Can’t say we’ll be as exciting as the S.W.A.T. teams, but we get our fair share of crazy situations. Hope it won’t be too boring for you.”

“I’m very excited to begin working here,” Connor assured, but his enthusiasm just made the captain roll his eyes and sigh. Connor still didn’t pick up any change in heart rate to suggest actual anger.

The captain shot Hank one last exasperated look, ruffled Cole’s hair, and then turned and retreated to his office. It appeared he’d had enough social interaction for one day. Connor sent a pleased look over to Hank. He thought that had gone rather well, actually. Hank was watching him with pride, though Connor still wasn’t sure why.

“Hey,” Hank said, stepping up until there was barely space between them. “How about we go home now? I’ve had my fun here.”

“Sure, Hank.” Connor pressed a quick kiss to Hank’s cheek. “But first, I’d like to meet your team. I believe they’re watching us intently.”

“Huh?” Hank glanced toward his desk. Officer Ashby and Detective Chen quickly looked away, but Hank noticed and chuckled softly. “Alright, alright. Let’s go make you some friends. Come on, Cole.”

Hank slipped his hand into Connor’s, the one with his soul mark on the back, and began leading him toward the women. Connor squeezed the hand in his, enjoying the feeling of it. He was still in a settling period, getting used to how it felt to come home to others who loved him, how nice it was to be greeted with a hug or a hand on his arm. It was all strange and new to him, but he was enjoying every new day of it.

Before the revolution, Connor had been a negotiator. He’d been happy. Now, a decade later, Connor was finally returning to the job he’d enjoyed, and he had Hank and Cole to share it with. He felt full. He felt satisfied. He felt good.

\--- --- ---

[[Replay as Hank?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/57373939)

[[Replay as Hank from the Beginning?]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192827/chapters/55519360)

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely feel free to translate this work so long as you comment with a link so I can add it here. Also give credit, of course.


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